


After the Curtain

by LauraAnneB



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers to Friends Again, Family Drama, Multi, One-sided Beetlejuice/Lydia (who is 27 years old) for a few chapters, Slice of Life, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 97,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22274914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraAnneB/pseuds/LauraAnneB
Summary: Barbara and Adam died, became ghosts, and gained a new family in the span of a few days. It’s a lot to process. As years pass and the Maitland-Deetz household grows, the Maitlands find themselves making some unexpected choices about (un)life, lust and love.
Relationships: Beetlejuice/Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland
Comments: 163
Kudos: 268





	1. Happy and Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara and Adam try to adjust to being dead and being members of a whole new family. Some adjustments are easier to make than others.

Barbara and Adam were usually ice cold. But after all the craziness with Beetlejuice (“the Juicening,” Lydia called it), they realized they could get at least lukewarm when they were touching. So they often moved around the Deetz-Maitland household holding hands, or with one hand on the other’s shoulder.

It didn’t replace having blood in their veins, or sweat dripping down their backs, or even a simple thing like feeling changes in temperature, but it was better than nothing.

As Adam hugged her from behind, Barbara checked ‘Breakfast’ off the family chore chart. She and Adam didn’t need to sleep—they lay down in bed at night and closed their eyes out of habit—so their job was balanced breakfasts and coffee for the Deetzes. Today’s breakfast was oatmeal with blueberries, raspberries and strawberries, Charles’ favourite, with a side of bacon for the carnivores in the family. Coffee steamed in Delia and Charles’s cups, and fresh-squeezed orange juice waited in three glasses.

Barbara stared at the marker in her hand. She let go, but, with a little effort, the marker hovered in the air. She telekinetically drew a smiley face and wrote _Have an amazing day, Charles, Delia and Lydia!_ on the chore chart.

She didn’t mind the telekinesis. She could pretend she was Matilda from the Roald Dahl book, and Adam could pretend he was a superhero. That part of being dead was pretty cool.

Adam kissed her cheek. “You’re getting better, sweetie.”

“My handwriting looks like a second-grader's.”

“Well, to be fair, it always was a little messy....”

She swatted him playfully. “Adam!”

Footsteps sounded above. The family was getting ready.

Having known Lydia for a few months, Barbara wasn't surprised when Lydia snapped a photo of her and Adam in the breakfast nook. Ghosts didn’t show up on video or photographs. Lydia loved taking candid photos of the Maitlands and developing those photos using different techniques. She’d promised to find the right process to make the Maitlands show up. Barbara didn't think she would, but she also didn't want to discourage Lydia's art.

The Deetzes sat down at the breakfast table.

“Another spectacular breakfast!” Delia said. “Adam, Barbara, you’re spoiling us.” She glanced at the chore chart, which had quite a few entries under the Maitlands’ names. “I don’t want you two to feel like you’re servants in your own home.”

“Oh, nonsense, Delia! We’re happy to do it!” Adam said. Barbara and Adam had agreed not to tell the living that all their chores made them focus on the little things—and those little things were all that kept them in the present. Otherwise, weeks could pass in seconds.

“Good luck on your presentation to the board today, Charles,” Barbara said. “How are you feeling about your physics test, Lydia?” Adam and Charles had been helping her, Adam a bit more than Charles. After all, Adam had a lot more time.

Lydia looked distracted. “Fine.” She was probably going over equations in her head. After finishing a piece of bacon, she said, “Hey, Maitlands, do you have any family in the area?”

“My sister Christine,” Barbara answered. “She lives a few towns over.”

Lydia fished in her backpack and pulled out a photograph. “I think she visited you guys.”

Their tombstones were simple black squares jutting out of the snowy ground. One read _Barbara Maitland 1987-2019_ , _Beloved daughter, sister, and wife_. Adam’s read _Adam Maitland 1986-2019,_ _Never forgotten_. Who’d chosen that inscription? Adam’s parents were both dead, and he’d been an only child. One of his cousins?

Sunflowers had been laid across both graves, bright and cheery against the pale grey sky. 

Adam’s arms enfolded her. “Sunflowers,” he murmured, voice tight. They were Barbara's favourite flower. They’d had sunflowers at their wedding.

“Maitlands?” Delia said. The Deetzes were standing up, carrying briefcases and backpacks, respectively, and already dressed for the January weather outside. When had everyone moved?

“I didn’t mean to freak you guys out,” Lydia said, looking between them anxiously. “I thought it’d make you happy.”

“It does,” Barbara replied. She smiled. She couldn’t let them worry. She and Adam had died, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be the happiest ghosts possible for their new family. “Thank you, Lydia.”

The Deetzes left. Barbara went to the window. There weren’t any sandworms outside. It was a perfect winter wonderland without a cloud in the sky.

“We could go visit Chrissy. Let’s go, right now, before it gets dark. Sandworms only come out at night, right?”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works. And,” Adam frowned, “anyway, it’s already dark.”

“No, it—” But he was right. Lydia was already coming home from school.

Barbara took Adam’s hand, walked up the stairs and pulled him into their bedroom. A large calendar dominated the far wall, with dates meticulously marked. Days passed were marked with a single, thick, diagonal line. The Maitlands never missed a day of marking their calendar.

Barbara rested her forehead against her husband’s. “We’re here, we’re happy, we’re human.”

“We’re here, we’re happy, we’re human.” They both inhaled. (They didn’t always remember to breathe, these days.)

He smiled sweetly and kissed her. Was that what his lips usually felt like? Or was it only her memory of his lips?

 _How human can I be when I can’t visit my family and friends?_ Barbara wondered.

There was a knock on their door. Barbara checked to see if Adam had his game face on, and he did.

“Come in,” Barbara said.

Lydia stepped in. “Did I break you two?”

“We’re fine, dear,” Adam said.

“Yeah, so that’s bullshit.”

“Lydia, language!” Barbara scolded.

Her “Sorry,” contained a bit more eye-rolling than Barbara liked. “What’s your sister’s address? I should meet her. I’ll pretend I’m a gothy teen obsessed with the young couple who tragically in her house—who’d question it? I could tell her I contacted you on a Ouija board and you told me to tell her you love her.” As if embarrassed by her earnestness, she cleared her throat and glanced away. “Or that you hate her for stealing your favourite sweater. Whatever.”

“I could never hate her.” Memories swirled: Chrissy as her maid of honour, beaming in her pink bridesmaid dress; serving food together on their mission trip to the Dominican Republic; running through the sprinkler on the lawn during hot summer days, shrieking with laughter. Barbara was tempted.

But then she thought about it some more. Chrissy was so sensitive. Hearing those words from Lydia would devastate her. “Thanks for offering, Lydia, but it’s all right. Chrissy knows what she means to me. I wish....” Her eyes stung with tears. “I wish I’d told her more often, obviously. But...that’s life, isn’t it?”

Lydia hugged her, tight and fierce. It was the first time a living person had touched her in what felt like a long time. That made the tears fall. _I don't have blood. Why do I have tears?_

Barbara pulled back, wiping her eyes. “Thank you, Lydia.” She wanted Lydia to focus on the here and now, not graveyards and tombstones. “Now, young lady, how did your test go?”


	2. Scrapbooking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Maitland-Deetz household looks to the future...but the past isn't so easily ignored.

One snowy February morning, Lydia and Delia had announcements to make over breakfast.

“So,” Lydia said a bit uncomfortably, “I’m going to volunteer with the local Girl Scout troop.”

There was a moment of silence from the table. Barbara struggled to associate young woman who dressed in all black; listened to records in her room for hours on end; and took photos of ghosts, roadkill and gravestones with such wholesome, all-American fun.

“They’re probably not going to accept me,” Lydia continued. “‘Goth loner’ isn’t exactly on brand for the Scouts. But I’ve got red on my ledger, and I need to wipe it clean.” She grimaced. “Well, not red. More like black and white stripes.”

“Ah,” Adam said quietly, and only then did Barbara remember the high-pitched screams of a Girl Scout running away from their house during the Juicening.

“If you feel that’s what you need to do to make things right,” Barbara said, “then of course we’ll support you. But nobody blames you for what happened. You were a grief-stricken child under the influence of a demonic psychopath.”

“How’s Guru Otho—I mean, Kevin—doing?” Lydia asked.

“They let him have computer privileges at the hospital yesterday,” Delia said, “and he sent me the most lovely email. He had a really great mental health month! They might even release him soon.”

“Good for him.” Lydia stared dully at her cereal bowl.

Charles touched his daughter’s shoulder. “Do you need me to make another appointment?” The Deetzes had gotten Lydia a therapist to help her deal with Emily’s death and at least some of the Juicening. From what Lydia had mentioned of her sessions, the Juicening had become a home invasion by a smelly psychopath. (“Beej would love to hear himself called that,” Lydia had commented.)

Lydia shrugged. After a few moments, she said, “Maybe. So, Delia, what did you want to talk about?”

Delia held hands with Charles. “Charles and I have been discussing the future of our family lately. I know things have been very busy with my courses—” Delia was taking courses online to become a certified therapist “—but the universe is setting out my path. My morning tarot has given me the same card every day this week: the Empress.” She looked between them, eyebrows raised. This appeared to be very significant.

Barbara had no idea why.

“Which means…?” Charles prompted.

“The universe is sending me a sign that it wants me to bring forth new life!”

Barbara and Adam shared a glance. She felt no shortness of breath, no surge of panic. _And why should I? We won’t be drowning in debt or dealing with diapers. It’ll be mostly the Deetzes._

Adam smiled back at Barbara, his knee bumping against hers under the table. It seemed like he agreed with her.

“Charles and I didn’t want to make a decision like this without discussing it with everyone,” Delia added.

Lydia looked surprised, but not unhappy. “Another scion of the proud Deetz bloodline. How marvelous.” She glanced at her dad. “You’re okay with having a high-schooler when you’re in your 60s?”

“Sixty is the new 40, they say,” Charles said.

Barbara tried not to look too excited. “You know you’ve got free babysitting whenever you need it.”

“Ooo,” Adam added, “we can be like your night nannies!”

“Please, Maitlands,” Delia said. “I consider you more co-parents than anything.” The adult Deetzes and Maitlands already had biweekly parenting meetings to go over the schedule for looking after Lydia. A few months into their arrangement, the meetings had become 15 minutes of business and 45 minutes of drinking. A baby would just give them more to talk about. Watching people get drunk was less fun when you couldn’t join them. Adam and Barbara had tried, but wine didn’t seem to affect them anymore.

(A certain demon had mentioned doing drugs. Barbara wasn’t interested in that, but getting buzzed off a glass of wine would be nice. Could only demons be affected by stimulants? Or could a ghost acquire the skill as they aged? _The Handbook for the Recently Deceased_ wasn’t the easiest reading, but it was all Barbara and Adam had to help them understand their condition.)

“We’re not sure anything’s going to happen right away,” Charles said. “We have to unfreeze Delia’s eggs, and pregnancy for women over for—”

“Thirty-five,” Delia corrected.

“—Thirty-five can be complicated.”

“If there’s anything we can do for you, please let us know,” Barbara said. “I think we still have a sewing machine in the attic. I could get to work on baby clothes!”

She’d thought one day she’d be sewing them for her own children. A wave of regret washed over her, but she worked on draining it to a trickle. She focused on how blessed she was. Who else had the chance to be a co-parent after they’d died?

* * *

That night, Lydia went up to the attic at 11:45. Barbara and Adam were lying in bed in their pyjamas, eyes closed, so they heard her the moment she started to move. The last time she’d gone up to the top of the house, she’d tried to commit suicide. Naturally, Barbara was concerned.

Adam and Barbara got dressed as they listened to the creaks and groans of the floorboards above them. They didn’t want to overreact. But when Lydia’s footsteps headed toward the window, Barbara grabbed Adam’s hand and teleported them to the attic.

It took a moment for Barbara to find Lydia in the darkness. She was sitting by the attic window, wearing a long, old-fashioned nightgown of black lace with black satin slippers. In her hands was a large book.

“I found the Maitland scrapbooking phase,” Lydia commented.

“We always meant to do more,” Adam said. “We’ve got...let’s see, the wedding scrapbook, Barbara’s parents’ 50th anniversary scrapbook, the trip to Spain scrapbook...and that’s it.”

“The glitter got everywhere.”

“So much glitter.”

Lydia closed the scrapbook in her hands. “We should bring them downstairs and put them with the rest of the family photo albums.”

“Did anything in particular draw you to the attic, Lydia?” Barbara asked.

She nodded out the window. “There’s a full moon over a wintry graveyard. Kinda my aesthetic. Wish I had a black cat or a pet crow. That’d tie it all together.”

She looked thoughtfully out the window for a moment, then said, “Mom and Dad always wanted more kids, but Mom was so sick.... I guess Dad’s getting his family.

“I’m trying not to be dramatic about everything. But part of me still feels like I’m being replaced by a better kid. It’s stupid, I know. They don’t even have a kid yet. And that kid might become a serial killer or a school shooter. I’d look pretty decent in comparison, then.”

Barbara wasn’t sure what to say. She and Adam had lots of experience repressing their feelings, but not a lot of experience with expressing them. But Lydia needed help, so Barbara had to try.

“It’s not stupid to feel unhappy. When Chrissy was born, I became a holy terror.” Barbara had only been three, so she didn’t remember much, but according to family lore she’d demanded her mother return the baby because she cried too much. “But give Charles and Delia a chance. They’ll probably surprise you.”

Lydia folded her arms over her chest, staring out at the graveyard. “I bet their new kid won’t summon a demon,” she whispered, her voice quivering.

“Lydia—”

“You keep saying nobody blames me. But Beej and I still messed with people’s lives for fun. Because we could. Because I was angry. Our neighbour, Mrs. Crenshaw, crosses the street when she sees me. I’ve tried to apologize to her a hundred times.”

“You made a mistake, and you’re trying to make up for it,” Barbara said.

“Please don’t keep punishing yourself,” Adam said.

She sighed heavily. “Someone has to.”

Barbara didn’t know what else to say, but she knew this girl needed a hug. She and Adam gathered around her. Barbara wasn’t sure if there was a God, but she prayed out of habit. _Please help her._ _She’s just a child._

“Thanks, guys,” Lydia murmured. She stepped out from their arms. Barbara couldn’t help but feel like they were the test run before she dealt with her real family. _It doesn’t matter. As long as we helped in some way._ She glanced around at the silhouettes of all their junk. Maybe it was being in the attic that was making her so moody.

Barbara began to take the scrapbook from Lydia’s hands. “Here, I’ll bring that down—” 

“No! It’s okay.” Lydia yanked it back.

As she did, an envelop slipped from between the scrapbook’s back pages. _Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice_ was written in sharp, taut cursive on the front.

Barbara felt as cold as she did when Adam wasn’t touching her.

Lydia stared between them, wide-eyed. She swallowed. “Please don’t tell Dad and Delia.”

Slowly, Adam bent down. There was a letter in the envelope. He pulled it out, and they both read it.

_Hey psycho,_

_I hope you found your dad. I hope it didn’t suck._

_Your not-so-grieving widow,_

_Lydia Deetz_

_P.S.: When you come back, no harassing Barb & Adam anymore, OK? I’m only bros with demons that practice consent._

_P.P.S.: And no murder._

“I don’t know how I thought it was going to work,” Lydia said, her voice tight. “Maybe I’d drop it in a mailbox. Maybe I’d open a door to the Netherworld and toss it in sometime when you guys couldn’t get caught in the blast. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” She wiped at the tears wavering in her eyes. “He’s a monster...and I still want to know if he’s okay.”

Barbara glanced at Adam. Did he know what to say? She certainly didn’t want that demon back in their lives.

After a few moments of thought, Adam said, “That’s not a bad thing. It means you have a good heart. Nothing in the _Handbook_ says anything about mail service between the living and the dead...but, you keep it.” He handed the letter back to Lydia. “Just in case. We won't tell anyone.”

Lydia took the letter and wiped her eyes with her free hand. Then she gave her usual dry half smile. “How to explain this to my therapist, I wonder? ‘My ghost parents interrupted me writing a letter to the homicidal maniac who’s still, for some reason, my bro.’ With some of the stuff I’ve told her, it’s a wonder she hasn’t committed me yet. I think she thinks I’m in a cult.”

She inhaled deeply, facing the window again. “Can I just stay here alone for a while? I am a teenager, after all; a certain amount of brooding is common for those with my affliction.”

“All right.” She and Adam walked downstairs, back to their room. Was this a parenting fail? A triumph? She wished she knew. Maybe she should’ve awakened Charles and asked him to talk to Lydia. He was the one who actually had experience.

* * *

They didn’t mention the letter to Charles and Delia, but Charles seemed to understand that Lydia might have some deep-seated insecurities about a new baby. He planned a special trip for the two of them to New York to see their old house and visit her mother’s grave.

A few days (weeks? months?) later, Lydia had started a scrapbook of her own. It was black, with lace and very realistic spiders on the cover, with the name _Emily Deetz_ in silver, Gothic script on the front.

“It’s good to see some of our junk being put to good use,” Adam commented, and Barbara agreed.


	3. Backwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The topic of sex comes up at a Maitland-Deetz parenting meeting, which leads Barbara and Adam to try and ignite their sex life. It doesn't go as planned.

One parenting meeting in the Deetz-Maitland household, Charles and Delia were more cuddly than normal. Charles had slung his arm over her shoulder, and his other hand was resting on her knee, while Delia rested her head on his shoulder. Seeing them made Barbara realize she and Adam hadn’t done that in quite some time. They touched often, but it certainly wasn’t sexual.

The main subject at that meeting was gossip about a new friend Lydia had made at school: Claire Brewster. Was she just a friend? Was she more?

Lydia had kept quiet about her. Charles had only found out about Claire when Claire’s mother used the parent mailing list to contact him about arrangements for Claire’s pool party celebrating the first day of summer. She’d naturally assumed Charles knew all about the girls’ friendship.

“Claire’s just someone I’ve been hanging out with at school,” was all Lydia would say about her. “She’s bearable.”

Delia wriggled in closer to Charles. “Charles, darling, do you know if Emily gave Lydia a queer-inclusive sex talk?”

Charles fidgeted awkwardly. “I left it up to Emily. I’m sure she covered it.”

“Lydia might still have some questions, though. Barbara, I can give you some resources, if you’d like. Sex-positive websites with accessible Gen-Z language. They’re very lit.”

Both Maitlands and Deetzes knew Lydia had bonded much faster with Barbara than with Delia, but they’d managed not to allude to it until now. Delia had made the offer easily, but how did she really feel about it?

“Thanks so much, Delia,” Barbara said. If the older woman weren't so wrapped up in Charles, she would've squeezed her hand. “I appreciate it. Queer sexuality certainly didn’t come up in the sex talk I had with my mom. Our talk was her handing me some educational tapes she’d rented from the library and saying ‘Watch these.’ It was mostly about puberty, but there were some parts about sex—all straight, of course, and nothing about birth control.” She snickered. “They were so ‘80s. I can still hear the synthesizers.”

“My sex talk was ‘Don’t do it before marriage, or God will be very disappointed in you,’” Adam said. A frown started to form, but he forced it away with long practice. Christianity had played a large part in the Maitlands’ lives, and it had been proven completely false. Most religions had, from what little they knew of the Netherworld. It hurt, sometimes, but there was no point in dwelling on it.

“My parents didn’t talk about sex at all,” Charles said. “I picked everything up on my own.”

“My family was very open with me,” Delia said. “A bit too open, at times!” Charles squeezed her closer to him, and she giggled. They stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments before Delia remembered the Maitlands were there. “Well, shall we adjourn, Maitlands?”

“Of course.”

The Deetzes left with Charles's hand on the small of Delia's back and her fingers toying with his hair.

Once they were up the stairs and out of earshot, Adam said, “Hey, crazy question...we’ve had sex since we died, right?”

“Sure! Of course we have.” A few moments passed as Barbara wracked her brain. Eventually, she admitted, “I just can’t remember when, exactly.”

“Neither can I. It’s not that weird that we haven’t, I suppose.”

“Really?”

“Well, we’ve had a lot of things to focus on. We inherited a child and a whole new family. That’s been taking up a lot of our time.”

But then there were those hours when everyone was at work or school. Why didn’t they do anything then?

“And maybe certain states of...um, excitement are easier when you’re alive,” she said.

“For some.” From his grimace, she knew exactly who he was talking about.

Barbara’s jaw clenched at the memory of Beetlejuice kissing them when she and Adam were newly dead. “For some.”

He cleared his throat, nodding to the stairs to the bedroom. “So. Would you like to...?”

“Yes! Of course.” She leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

As they walked up the stairs, the sight of the kitchen gave Barbara an idea. “Wait.” She pulled Adam into the kitchen, and as they entered, it warped. The sleek, modern furnishings disappeared, becoming a rustic Victorian kitchen with green wallpaper.

Adam gasped. “Is this...? It’s just like when we first bought the place!”

“Mmhm.” She hugged him from behind, kissing the side of his neck. “Remember our first night, after the movers left?”

“Oh yeah.”

The sex she and Adam had had in the years before their deaths had been fraught: Should she still be on the pill? Should he use protection? When were they going to make that baby that everyone expected them to make, the one what would make their family complete? But that first night in their new home had been just for the two of them.

Barbara spent some power on herself. When she turned Adam around to face her, she was wearing the black T-shirt and jean shorts she’d been wearing that day, still covered in sweat and dust from a day spent unpacking in a stuffy old house without air conditioning.

His eyes lit up when he saw her, making her feel as special as she’d felt on their wedding day. With a soft moan, he kissed her hard. She wound her arms around his wiry shoulders as her tongue slipped past his lips.

They kissed. And kissed. And kissed. And kissed. And kissed. She’d brushed her tongue against his so often it would have been getting numb if they’d had blood. In fact, they didn’t seem to have spit, either. Suddenly, Barbara was way too aware of the inside of her mouth.

They should have been getting breathless, the heat and electricity building between them, leading them to start yanking off clothes. That was how it had gone years ago.

_Of course, we have no breath. Oh, we breathe when we speak, but it’s not the same thing._

She broke the kiss. _Okay, take two._ Adam was wearing the same outfit he’d worn the day they moved: a grungy white t-shirt and shorts. He’d even remembered the sweat stains on his armpits and chest. But he didn’t smell like sweat. It threw her out of the moment.

But he was wearing the clothes. She’d focus on that. The feel of rough cotton under her fingers. The cool leather of his belt and belt buckle. The feel of his butt, clenching as she ran her fingers over it.

He began kissing her face, and she tugged him backward toward the kitchen island. He lifted her up, and she sat on the island, spreading her legs.

Had the counters been beige? Or had they been off-white? She’d stared at those counters for years and made countless meals on them. Why couldn’t she remember their colour?

Not that it mattered. She ran her fingers through Adam’s hair and pulled him in for a deeper kiss before she pulled his shirt off. His perfect, wiry chest was dusted with light brown hair. He slid his long fingers beneath her shirt, over her belly. She’d always meant to lose those extra fifteen pounds she carried at her gut and thighs. _I guess I never will now._

 _Nope. Not thinking about that._ His fingers slid over her breasts. She felt a flicker of something between her legs. Unfortunately, it was pressure more than pleasure. After the movers had left, she and Adam had started kissing without a second thought. It'd just seemed so natural. They’d even forgotten to close the kitchen curtains, they’d been so into each other. It had been the start of their new life.

If she acted like she was enjoying herself, she’d start enjoying herself. She moaned loudly to encourage both of them.

His suddenly worried gaze flicked to the ceiling. Right. They couldn’t disturb the Deetzes. When they’d first bought the place, they’d been as loud as they wanted.

Suddenly, everything she’d done felt stupid and sad. The counters, the clothes, the roleplaying. This wasn’t their house anymore. What was the point of living in the past?

She half-sighed “Adam.” She was too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

He took his hands off her breasts. Without consciously deciding to, she was back in the dress she’d died in. His shirt and slacks went back to normal a few moments later. The Victorian interior vanished, becoming their new home.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured.

“It’s fine, Barbara,” he said kindly.

She slipped off the kitchen counter. Glancing between his legs, she asked, “Are you...?”

He sighed and shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want you.”

With a frustrated groan, she buried her face in his chest. “What is wrong with me? I love you so much....”

He held her. “And I love you.” He kissed the top of her head and said lightly, “At least we have time to get it right. Eternity, as far as I understand.” He lifted her chin; she looked into his warm, dark brown eyes. “Our first time wasn’t the greatest,” he reminded her. Barbara and Adam had been each other’s firsts, and they’d had a lot to learn. “We got better, didn’t we? We just have to do that again.”

“Okay,” she said, forcing a smile. She didn’t feel so hopeful.

She grew a bit more hopeful after the Deetzes left for school and work, and she and Adam spent the day in bed. They cuddled, fully clothed, letting their undead bodies feel what they would, with no expectations of something more.

It wasn’t what they’d left behind, but it was a start.


	4. The Birth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new child is born, a name is chosen, and an old "friend" returns.

Delia announced her pregnancy around the dinner table one rainy August evening. The Maitland-Deetz household prepared for a baby.

The Maitlands were stuck in their home, but they were used to keeping busy. They knitted baby booties and sewed baby clothes out of vintage fabrics Delia picked out. Soon, they had a whole wardrobe made for the newest Deetz in gender-neutral yellows, greens and whites. Delia had the baby shower at the house, at least, so Barbara and Adam could pretend to be a part of her group of friends.

Delia was adamant that they not choose a name before she had met the person growing inside of her. Charles had made a list and had a few suggestions, but Delia was going to leave it up to the universe.

Time moves differently for the dead. Despite Delia’s complaints about how she wanted the whole thing over with, to Barbara, her pregnancy passed in a blur. Soon, Delia was in the hospital with Charles and Lydia for her C-section, and Barbara and Adam were pacing the floor and checking their phone.

At three in the morning on April 12, 2022, Lydia sent them a pic of a tired Delia in a hospital gown holding a red-faced baby.

 _The newest Deetz is an eight-pound boy_ , Lydia wrote. _Sun in Aries, moon in Leo, Aquarius ascendant, more astrology stuff to follow._ _Delia is communing with his essence. Name tbd._

Barbara and Adam demanded photos, and Lydia was happy to oblige during the hospital’s visiting hours. Three days later, Delia left the hospital at noon. The Deetzes returned with their newest family member in tow, wearing the green onesie Adam had sewn.

“How are you feeling, Delia?” Barbara asked, kissing her cheek.

“As well as can be expected, darling.” The poor thing looked exhausted.

Charles held his son. “Do you want to tell them, or should I?” he asked Delia.

“I will,” Delia said. “I think we discovered his name, but we’d like your permission before we make it official.”

“Permission?” Barbara asked.

“What do you think of Maitland Deetz?”

Barbara gasped. Adam was silent and still for a few moments. Then he smiled and brushed away the tears forming in his eyes.

“Maitland Deetz sounds wonderful,” he said. “Thank you.”

Barbara found herself tearing up as well. Adam pulled her close, and she rested her head on his shoulder. 

Lydia tickled her little brother’s cheek. “His nickname is ‘Maity,’ so we always sound like pirates when we’re talking about him. Arrr, Maity.”

Then the sky went black. Barbara and Adam weren’t too surprised. They tried to stay in the present as much as possible, but they didn’t always succeed. Day immediately becoming night wasn’t too strange.

What was strange was the living gasping and reacting as if they’d noticed it, too.

“What—what’s happening?” Delia stammered.

Green lightning flashed outside the foyer windows. Neon green lightning. The exact same shade as a certain someone’s hair.

“God damn it,” Barbara muttered.

Adam sighed.

“What?!” Charles snapped. “Oh, no, absolutely not, no way is he hurting my family again—”

Green lightning flashed again. Then, from behind the Maitland-Deetzes came a raspy, joyous:

“It’s showtime!”


	5. House Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beetlejuice learns there are consequences to his actions, and Barbara prepares for war.

One second, Beetlejuice was floating in the air above them. The next second, he was hogtied on the ground and gagged with a handkerchief. Barbara had been working hard on that one.

“Stay back, pervert!” Barbara snapped.

Adam, meanwhile, activated the personalized shields he’d been working on. They were based off those _Dune_ books, one of his favourites.

They were two-year-dead ghosts facing a centuries-old asshole, but at least they were trying.

“Oh, Barbara,” came Beetlejuice’s voice in her ear over the humming of the forcefield. She flinched away from him, but he wasn’t behind her.

_Oh, of course—he’s throwing his voice!_

“If you wanted to tie me up, there are so many sexier ways.”

Beetlejuice was suddenly shirtless, arms and legs bound to a contraption that looked like an X. He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Eh? Eh? Hot stuff, huh, Babs?”

“Look away, Lydia,” Adam snapped.

Lydia didn’t listen. She strode to the front of the group, past Charles and Adam who were standing guard. The X Beetlejuice had tied himself to vanished, and he hovered in the air in his regular stained suit and sloppy tie, watching her.

“Beetlejuice,” she said coolly.

“Lydia,” he replied, just as coolly.

Then he scooped her up and twirled her three feet above the ground. Lydia laughed as the two hugged.

“Hey, psychopath,” Lydia murmured.

“Hey, freak.” He ruffled her hair as he set her down, beaming.

“How did your search for your father go, anyway?”

“Pffbbt. That thing? Whatever. The important part is, since I’m a newly dead ghost, I can affect the living world. Who has four thumbs and can choose their own porn? This guy!” He manifested two other arms to point all four of his thumbs at himself. “I’ve needed those two extra hands for all my jerking—”

“Shut up!” Barbara snapped. She summoned the _Handbook for the Recently Deceased_. One of the first things she and Adam had done was bookmark banishment spells. She flipped to the nearest one the instant she felt the book's weight.

Beetlejuice held four of his hands out in surrender, but he didn’t seem particularly concerned. “Oh nooooo,” he said flatly. “You know there are more powerful books than that in the Netherworld, right?”

Barbara hesitated. She didn’t know that. The Maitlands had no idea what the state of the Netherworld was now that Juno was dead. They hadn’t wanted to risk their foothold on the living world to check.

The room was suddenly engulfed in darkness. Barbara fought to make light, but nothing happened. Near their feet, rats squeaked and snakes hissed. Delia whimpered. Reaching back, Barbara held her arm to steady her. This monster wouldn’t get any closer to Barbara’s family.

Neon green eyes the size of fists lit the darkness. His voice echoed with staticky reverb. “ ** _Try to banish me, Maitlands, and you’ll regret it_**.”

Their namesake, Maitland Deetz, started crying.

The darkness, rats and snakes vanished instantly. Beetlejuice hovered in his usual form, blinking in surprise. “The fuck is that thing?”

“He’s my son, Maitland,” Charles said. He held Delia by the shoulders.

Remembering Beetlejuice’s advice about punching babies when he was training them to scare people, Adam and Barbara moved to stand on either side of Delia.

Beetlejuice tilted his head questioningly at Lydia. “Want me to _Labyrinth_ this kid, Lyds?”

“Don’t you dare!” Charles roared.

Lydia raised a hand, gesturing ‘hold on’ to Charles. To Beetlejuice, she said, “No. He’s my half-brother, and I love him. I’m actually in a much better place than I was two years ago.”

He blinked. “Wait, two years?”

“Yeah, psycho. Hope you did a bit more than just watch porn.”

Beetlejuice chuckled. “Oh, I absolutely did not.” He looked around the group. “Who wants recommendations?” When chilly silence was his only answer, he said, “No one clicked on this fic to read my fucking backstory. They’re here for one thing and one thing only.” He gazed off into the middle distance. “We’re getting there, folks. We just had to set up how pathetic everyone’s lives were before I came back.”

“Who are you talking to?” Lydia asked.

“Eh, never mind.”

“I hate to defend him,” Adam said, “but time _does_ move differently for ghosts.”

Beetlejuice brightened, neon green hearts and eggplants fluttering around his head. “My man’s standing up for me! Come here, Sexy!”

Adam sighed, shoulders high as he tensed for whatever physical assault Beetlejuice had planned. He still had his _Dune_ forcefield up, but they’d both known that wouldn’t stop Beetlejuice for long.

Barbara seethed. How dare he treat her husband like this? “Hands off, or I’ll—I’ll start banishing!” It was the only leverage she had.

Suddenly, Beetlejuice’s hands floated where he had been. From directly behind her, Beetlejuice chortled. His breath hit her ear, making her skin crawl. “Okay, Babs. Hands off!” He slung his handless arms over her and Adam’s shoulders, breaking the forcefield without even flinching. “Now, as for my other body parts....”

“Beetlejuice,” Lydia warned.

The demon dropped his arms from Adam and Barbara’s shoulders with an annoyed huff. “Whaaaaat?”

“Everyone, can I have some time alone with the demon? You guys can get Maity all set up and...get some breathing room.”

Charles lingered and took some extra convincing to leave. He left the nursery door open, listening intently for any sound from the floor below.

The nursery was adorable. The walls were warm purple with glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. A smiling moon and pink and orange clouds was on the far wall. But everyone was on edge as they put Maity into his crib.

“Can you banish the demon, Barbara?” Charles asked.

“He didn’t seem very threatened,” Barbara said, flipping through the _Handbook_. There had to be something powerful enough to banish him without hurting the other two ghosts in the house. “I thought the spells in here were powerful enough, but now I don’t know.”

Charles took out of his phone. “I made friends with some priests and gurus after he left the first time.” He glanced awkwardly between her and Adam. “Hopefully, if you two stay out of the way, whatever they do will only affect him.”

Beetlejuice’s head popped up from the floor. As everyone cried out in surprise, he said, “Hey, Babs, Sexy, so Lyds is saying you’d be DTF if I didn’t constantly hit on you?”

Lydia’s muffled voice sounded from below. “Not what I said! At all!”

“DTF?” Barbara said.

“Down to fu—”

Adam buried his head in his hands. “Oh, God.”

“No!” Barbara snapped. “Never! Ugh!”

Beetlejuice eyed Charles and Delia in that slimy way of his. “What about you two?”

From the kitchen below, Lydia shrieked.

“Ack!” Beetlejuice said, as his head disappeared through the floor. Lydia must have yanked him down.

“Hate’s a strong word...” Adam began.

“I hate him,” Barbara hissed. “So much.”

Adam looked surprised, but then thoughtfully said, “That’s understandable.”

There wasn’t much else to say. They set up the baby monitor and turned the mobile on; little planets whirled over the baby’s head. Barbara tried to ignore the demon downstairs and lose herself in Maitland, with his cute little fingers and toes, and the adorable gurgles and coos he made. Delia started nodding off, and the family let her sleep.

It was almost a half-hour later when a weary Lydia appeared at the nursery doorway. “Guys, can we have a family meeting?”

They woke Delia up, and the family gathered in the living room. Lydia held a piece of paper with writing on it.

Beetlejuice hovered in the air, bobbing gently as he examined the living room. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to change some things back. Needs more snakes!”

Charles glared at him. “You’re not staying, demon.”

Beetlejuice chortled. “So cute that you think you have a choice! Lemme guess, you got some holy heavy hitters on speed dial? Bring ‘em here!” He made a lewd tongue gesture. “I love defrocking priests.”

“Dad, what if he promised to be good?” Lydia asked. She gestured to a sheet of paper in her hand. “I’ve been writing out some house rules—”

“Absolutely not. If he spent two whole years in the living world without being devoured by...what did you call them? Sandworms?” At Lydia’s nod, he said, “Then Mr. Juice can go back wherever he came from. I am _not_ letting him near my children.”

“I’ll hang out with Lyds at school, then,” Beetlejuice snapped. “You can’t tell me what to do, Dad!”

“We still have the _Handbook for the Recently Deceased_ ,” Barbara said coldly.

“Oh, wow. You can banish me for a day or two. Maybe a week if you get lucky. I got out of the Netherworld before. I’ll just do it again.”

Charles stared Beetlejuice down. “There are exorcism spells in that book, not just banishment spells.”

Barbara shuddered, remembering the agony of her own exorcism.

“Charles!” Adam gasped. “That’s murder.”

Barbara closed the _Handbook_ for emphasis. “I’m not exorcising any ghost even if they are...him.”

Charles stared at her. “He had no such compunction two years ago when you got in his way, Barbara. He was going to kill you. He almost killed Kevin! Why on Earth would I want this madman around my family?”

“Oh yeah.” Beetlejuice seemed like he’d just remembered that. “Again, sorry ‘bout that, Babs.”

“’Again’? You’ve never apologized for that.”

He glared at her. “Shit, I’d just killed my mom! So a few things slipped my mind. Give me a break!”

Lydia shook her head at Beetlejuice, sighing. She turned her attention back to her father. “If we let him stay here, we can teach him how to be good. We can show him what a family’s meant to be.”

“Her idea,” Beetlejuice pointed out. “I don’t give a shit about that. I just wanna hang out with my bestie!” He gave Lydia a noogie until she smacked his hand away.

Delia spoke up. “Lydia, darling, I know that you have a strong connection with Beetlejuice. It’s admirable that you see so much good in him. But, clearly, he doesn’t seem that interested in adapting to our lifestyle.”

“Boring breather shit is boring,” Beetlejuice commented.

“Is a demon really worth this much of your emotional labour?” Delia asked.

Lydia recoiled in surprise. After a moment’s silence, she said, “Great question, Delia. You know, I’m not sure he is.” She turned to Beetlejuice, glaring up at him. “ _You_ asked _me_ if you could crash here. _Begged_ me, in fact.”

Beetlejuice’s gently bobbing form froze in mid-air as he unsuccessfully tried to hide his surprise. “Nuh-uh!” He hissed, “Shut _up_ , kid,” at her.

“Yeah, I don’t listen to old men telling me what to do.” Lydia gestured to the list in her hand. “Here are the conditions to being my friend and—maybe someday—being a part of this family.” She gestured to the Maitlands and Deetzes. “I figured we could add on as we talk this through.”

Beetlejuice grabbed the sheet, reading it despairingly. “No murder?! Good thing that wasn’t a house rule when my mom was gonna kill you, Lyds.”

“Because of a situation you engineered! And anyway, self-defence is different.”

Beetlejuice frowned at the list. “’No sexual harassing members of the family’? When have I ever done that?”

Adam made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

Barbara didn’t usually raise her voice, but she found herself yelling, “The very minute you met us! The kissing, the groping—”

“That stuff?” Beetlejuice rolled his eyes at her. “Take a fucking compliment!”

“I’ll keep hammering consent into his head,” Lydia said quickly. “It’s not on you two to deal with.”

“You’re very prepared for this, Lydia,” Charles said, frowning.

“I figured he’d be back someday. How many friends does this smelly goblin have?” She shook her head with exasperated fondness. “Of course, I also figured he’d contact me somehow before this to let me know he was safe....”

“I got distracted!”

As the conversation continued, Barbara and Charles shared an uneasy glance. They certainly seemed to be losing the battle to get Beetlejuice out of here. _But if I truly thought he’d hurt us, why didn’t I just start a banishment spell the second he arrived?_ Looking back, she could think of a few reasons: she didn’t know which one would work the best, she’d been hoping she’d grown enough in her ghostly powers to stop him, and Lydia would’ve hated her if she’d interrupted her reunion with the demon. But Barbara hadn’t been consciously thinking any of those at the time. _I’m probably just too soft for my own good._

Lydia eventually laid out a suggestion: if Beetlejuice agreed to the house rules, he could stay. If he slipped up non-violently, he’d get a warning. If he continued to break the rules (or was violent in general), Charles and Barbara be well within their rights to banish him whatever way they could—and, worst of all, Lydia would cut him out of her life. With a shrug and a sneer, the demon agreed.

_If it’s needed, will I be strong enough? Lydia killed him once. Do I have that kind of spine?_

“You can make your home in the basement,” Lydia said. “I think we have an old computer we can give you to keep you—” she wrinkled her nose “—entertained.”

“With porn!” Beetlejuice added helpfully. “It’s why the ‘Net was born!”

“You’re so gross,” she grumbled.

An alarm on Delia’s phone beeped, and Delia took a series of pills she’d gotten from the hospital. The family meeting broke up, with Beetlejuice chattering cheerfully to Lydia as she showed him the basement.

The four adults looked at each other.

“Why does she keep fighting so hard to find some good in that demon?” Charles growled, running his hands through his hair.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Delia asked. “If she redeems the demon, she redeems herself. She’s mistaken to think she needs it, but clearly she feels she does.”

Barbara stared at her.

“Er, yes?”

“You just had your body sliced open and you can pull that kind of insight out of your brain?” Barbara applauded lightly. “You’re going to make the world’s best therapist, Delia.”

Delia blushed. “You’re so sweet, Barbara.”

Before Delia’s C-section, the Maitlands and Deetzes had worked out a schedule for dealing with the baby. The Maitlands would, naturally, have the night shift, waking Delia up for feedings. At a sudden wail over the baby monitor, Adam and Barbara stood. It wasn’t evening yet, but Delia was about to fall asleep on her feet.

“Get some sleep, Deetzes,” Adam said gently. “We’ll take it from here.”

“Charles?” Barbara said.

“Yes?”

“If the demon goes rogue, and you need to bring someone in, don’t worry about us. Just do it. Anything to keep our children safe.”

Charles gazed intently at her and Adam. After a few moments of silence, he said, “Thank you, Barbara.”

“It won’t come to that,” Delia said, shaking her head. A frantic light gleamed in her eyes. “I’m putting it out into the universe now. It won’t.”

Charles took his wife’s arm. More gently, he said, “We’ll pray it doesn’t.” He led her upstairs while Barbara and Adam went into the nursery.

Barbara cleared her throat. “Um, so all that talk about consent, and I didn’t think to ask you if you wanted to be volunteered for a suicide mission.”

Adam gave her a small smile. “I would’ve said the same thing. We’re parents now. Our kids have to come first.” His smile faded, becoming a worried expression that sat all too naturally on his face. “I’ll keep reading the _Handbook_. There’s got to be a way to banish him and not us. Hmm. Maybe I could sneak into the Netherworld and look up those other books Beetlejuice was talking about?”

“Assuming he was even telling the truth.”

Adam sighed wistfully. “Part of me would love seeing a library of the dead.”

Maitland was kicking and wriggling, so Barbara picked him up and cradled him. He didn’t stop squirming.

“I know, I’m not as warm as your mama,” she cooed. “Sorry, baby Maity. I hope you’ll get used to it! All I want to do is hug you.”

She felt a bit like she was playacting. Delia was the one who’d carried him, who’d held him after his birth, who could nurse him. Barbara was just some undead pretender. Maitland didn’t stop wriggling. Could he sense her fakeness?

Even if this moment felt awkward, Barbara knew one thing with utter certainty. “No one’s ever going to hurt you, sweetie,” she whispered in his ear. “If that demon tries, I’ll kill him.”


	6. The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia has plans for Beetlejuice now that he's reappeared. Barbara considers her options.

The next night (or a few days later, or a few weeks later), the walls and windows of the house suddenly rattled as Beetlejuice boomed “ ** _I AM A TERRIFYING AND IMPOSING FIGURE!_** ”

Maitland started crying.

“Adam, take care of Maity,” Barbara said, summoning the _Handbook of the Recently Deceased_ to her hand from its usual place in the attic. “I’ll deal with _him_.”

She ran down the stairs, meeting Charles on the way down. They arrived at the kitchen to see it covered in insects—including a Lydia-sized figure sitting at the kitchen island.

Gasping, her skin crawling, Barbara froze. 

Lydia casually plucked a centipede off her face and smashed it on the kitchen counter.

The beetles, centipedes, cockroaches, spiders and flies all converged on one point in the air. They formed into a human figure, their shells and skins became black, white, grey and green. In a few seconds they were Beetlejuice himself.

“You killed Morgan!” he wailed, but he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “He was my favourite! He was just a hard-working bug trying to provide for his five thousand children.”

Lydia began to raise her middle finger until she noticed Barbara and Charles. Then she put her hand down. “He was not.”

“He dreamed of being an architect. He’d just gotten a scholarship to university.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. To Barbara and Charles, she said, “Sorry he woke everyone up. I was teasing him about how much scarier the Babadook is than him—”

“I have no choice but to stan a gay icon,” Beetlejuice commented, “but the guy’s a chump—”

“—And I should’ve realized he’d overreact,” Lydia finished. “I’ll try to muzzle him.”

Charles sighed, rubbing his hand down his face. “Thank you, Lydia. Now, don’t stay up too late. It’s almost bedtime.”

“Bedtime?!” Beetlejuice sneered. “Come the fuck on, Dad! She’s 17!”

“A 17-year-old with a presentation in her Civics class tomorrow.”

“Just having dessert, Dad.” On the island counter were a plate of the chocolate chip cookies Delia and Lydia had baked earlier that day. (Or earlier that week? Barbara couldn’t remember.) They were shaped like skulls.

Charles frowned, but it was only 9:30 PM, and she wasn’t breaking any rules. “Maitland is sleeping, Beetlejuice. Keep the noise down.”

Beetlejuice huffed. “If all you breathers want to sleep, I could just steal that little fucker’s voice, sea witch style.”

Lydia cleared her throat.

“What? I’m helping!”

“Do not steal my son’s voice, demon,” Charles said wearily. “Lydia...” he paused, clearly fighting something back, then muttered, “goodnight.”

Charles and Barbara left the girl and the demon in the kitchen. _I froze again instead of working on a banishing spell. What is wrong with me? I’m not protecting anyone. What happened to Maitlands 2.0?_

At the foot of the stairs, Charles sighed. “I can’t help but worry about leaving them alone. He wasn’t a good influence on her before. God knows, she’s the only one who can keep that demon in line, but it feels wrong to put all that on her. She’s only 17.”

“I know.”

After Charles left, Barbara had an idea. With a wave of her hand, she banished the _Handbook_. She pretended she was Alice in Wonderland and shrunk herself down. She blinked, seeing the walls of the house loom high above her.

Then she crept toward the kitchen. She scampered across the floor to the closest area she could hide—behind the leg of the china hutch.

“But you can haunt anyone’s house, right?” Lydia said, obviously continuing a previous conversation. “Now that sandworms don’t bother you?”

“Oh, those assholes _try_ to bother me, but I’m really OP for this setting. Sure, once you say my name three times, I can haunt any house. But the longer I stay from where I was buried, the more sandworms I attract, house or no house. It’s hard to really get into the haunting groove if I have to keep kicking sandworm ass.”

Lydia chewed a cookie for a moment. From the sound of things, Beetlejuice gobbled down quite a few himself. “What about Washington, DC?” she asked. “Could you get there?”

“Sure. What’s in Washington?”

“Politicians who want guns everywhere, no abortions, and no non-white people. Then there’s ICE, the NRA, corrupt CEOS....” She smacked her hand on the island counter. “Every asshole who’s keeping our corrupt capitalist system running and poisoning our planet.”

“The fuck is this SJW bullshit getting in my porn fic?”

“Porn fic?”

“Nevermind.” He chuckled. “Look, you’re 17 and you want to change the world. That’s cute. But humans are awful. You think the other side’s any better?”

“All the more reason to destroy capitalism.”

“The thing you’ve totally benefited from. Girl, your perfume smells like your daddy's got money.”

“You’re right. I am privileged. Mom probably wouldn’t have had as many years as she did without Dad being able to pay for all her treatments. And that’s fucked up, right? Everyone should have medicine they need to survive. Everyone should have the same opportunities, regardless of their race, religion—”

“Nothing’s gonna change! Nothing ever changes. Life sucks and then you die—and death ain’t that fucking great, as we both know. I’m not risking my ass for some bullshit crusade.”

“Really, Beej?” She ate another cookie. “The ‘ghost with the most’ doesn’t want to cause some chaos?”

Beetlejuice was silent.

“Just think about it. If you can get these assholes to resign, everyone will be talking about what you’ve done. You’ll have worldwide attention.”

“Lydia.” He was choked up. “Shh. You had me at ‘chaos.’”

A quiet poof signalled a shapeshift.

“Next up,” Beetlejuice said in a smooth announcer voice, “we have an incredibly sexy and talented spectre. This ghost with the most can fulfill your wildest anarchist/antifa dreams if you’re willing to get a little underhanded. And he can be yours for the low, low price of saying my name three times in a row, spoken unbroken. Call now, and we’ll throw in a free promise to not murder anyone, which he definitely won’t break.”

The room was silent for a moment.

“I’m not hearing my naa-aaame,” Beetlejuice sing-songed.

“I’m just flashing back to the last time I trusted you.” Lydia groaned in frustration.

“And you got me back for that, remember? You don’t see me bringing up old bullshit. C’mon, clean slate. Whaddaya say, kid?”

Lydia sighed. She slid off the barstool at the kitchen island and paced. When she finally spoke, she sounded excited. “Beej, how about a trial run? If my little brother can grow up without you traumatizing him, I’ll consider it. Prove to me that you can understand the concept of goodness, and you’ll get your chaos.”

“’Grow up’? What’s that, 18 years?!”

“We’ll check in after 10—if society as we know it is still around by then. It’ll give me time to affect the world as an adult. Cast my vote, see if it makes a difference, that kind of thing.”

“Ten years?!”

“Time moves differently for ghosts, doesn’t it? I just don’t want to rush this, not like last time. I’ll always need you in my life, but maybe not to be a chaotic manifestation of my leftist rage.”

“Need me?” Beetlejuice snapped, irritated. “The fuck do you need me for?”

“You know, the friend thing.”

There was a long silence from Beetlejuice. Finally, a loud sniffle broke it, followed by a choked-off sob, as if he was trying not to be loud.

“I’m eating the rest of these cookies,” he said in between sobs.

“Okay, psycho,” she said gently. “And, hey, if you maybe spent more time looking for your dad than you pretended, I’m here to listen. You know that, right?”

His response was a sob and the sounds of cookies being rapidly eaten. He sounded like a depressed Cookie Monster.

Barbara had never even thought Beetlejuice might be lying about the search for his father. Deciding to give the friends some privacy, she snuck away, mulling over what she'd heard. Lydia was a mature, intelligent young woman—why did she think more Beetlejuice in the world would help anything? It was good that Lydia was getting politically active, of course. But this couldn’t be the right way to go about things.

The next thing she had to do was tell Adam, Charles and Delia about the deal Lydia had made with Beetlejuice. _Hopefully, we can convince her the deal shouldn’t go through._


	7. Claire Brewster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Lydia invites a friend over for dinner, it doesn't go as planned.

Their first big trial run for Beetlejuice’s reformed attitude was Lydia’s friend Claire coming over for dinner a month after he arrived.

Adam and Barbara were cooking chicken broccoli casserole in the kitchen while Beetlejuice watched. As Adam bent down to get broccoli out of the vegetable crisper at the bottom of the fridge, Beetlejuice slammed his hands on the island counter.

“God damnit, Adam! Why you gotta bend down like that? It’s too sexy.” Beetlejuice had gotten much better about not invading the Maitlands’ personal space, but the comments hadn’t gone away.

A few days (or months?) ago, Barbara and Adam had made a vow not to react too much to Beetlejuice. But Barbara was in a good mood. Lydia had assured them that Claire was strange and unusual enough to see them. So she commented, “It is a cute butt, isn’t it?” _And I’m the only one that gets to touch it, demon._

Adam kissed her cheek as he walked over to the cutting board. “Thanks, honey.”

“He was captain of the swim team in high school,” she added.

Beetlejuice’s eyes widened. “So...so he wore those tight little swimsuits?”

“Mmhm.” In the depths of her crush on the handsome high school junior, Barbara had never missed a swim meet.

Beetlejuice was still for so long that Barbara turned back to chopping up chicken. She’d chopped up two whole breasts when Beetlejuice revived and said, “So I’m gonna spank it to that beautiful image.” He seemed genuinely touched when he said, “Thanks, guys.”

With a poof of foul-smelling smoke, he was gone—hopefully down to the basement.

Barbara shuddered. “Ugh! Sorry I brought up the swim team, sweetie. For a moment, I treated him like an actual human being and not…him.”

“It’s okay. Look on the bright side—now, we can cook a meal without any sexual harassment.”

She rested her fingertips on his left hip. “Mm, is a little bit of harassment okay?”

He laughed. “From you? Always.”

She pinched his butt, and they giggled, nuzzling noses. They were going to meet someone new. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this excited.

Adam had thrown himself into planning this dinner like a general planning a war. He’d researched current events and grilled Lydia for everything she knew about Claire so they could have stimulating dinner conversation. (“Who’s Claire?” Lydia had replied blankly.) Barbara knew how quickly Adam’s perfectionism reared its head. They’d had a few conversations about keeping this a fun, friendly dinner. But it was nice to see him so engaged.

For once, time didn’t seem to be speeding up. It was slowing down as the Maitlands cooked their casserole and glanced at the clock, waiting for Lydia and Claire to come home from school.

Finally, it was time. The ghosts waited by the entrance. If Claire couldn’t see them, they had to clean up Barbara and Adam’s table settings. Beetlejuice had refused to be part of the dinner portion of the evening, which meant he was probably planning a prank of some kind.

Seeing Beetlejuice’s tie half-done, Adam straightened it, pulling the knot tighter. Beetlejuice watched him raptly, his yellow teeth digging into his lower lip. Seeing Barbara watching him, he winked at her.

Barbara jostled the demon. “Seriously?” she hissed in his ear.

Because he was the world’s biggest jerk, he tugged his tie down even lower this time, then turned to get Adam’s attention.

With a quick surge of power, Barbara telekinetically straightened his tie and tightened it so hard he coughed and started choking. (Why? He didn’t need to breathe. Sometimes, the demon hurt her brain.)

“Um, everything okay?” Adam asked.

“Fine!” Barbara said brightly, telekinetically loosening Beetlejuice’s tie.

The demon sucked in air, blinking a few times. Surprised, he muttered, “Woah. I’m turned on by way too many things right now.”

“Stop that!” Barbara hissed. “Be presentable! Be normal! Do not mess this up for us.”

The door opened, and Lydia and Claire came in. Barbara straightened up, reaching down to hold Adam’s hand.

Claire looked around the house—her gaze sliding completely over Beetlejuice and the Maitlands.

A pit opened up in Barbara’s stomach. Lydia was watching, so Barbara fought to hide her feelings. She keenly felt how cold she was.

“Wow, your house is like a hotel,” Claire whispered. The curvy African-American girl rocked blonde short dreads, a septum piercing, and a semicolon tattoo on her wrist. In contrast to Lydia’s calculated aesthetic, Claire seemed to value comfort, wearing ripped jeans and a Billie Eilish t-shirt. She looked exactly like the kind of person Lydia would be friends with.

“Blame my dad,” Lydia replied. She shot Barbara and Adam an apologetic glance.

Claire eyed the ribbed art piece that Lydia had used to kill Beetlejuice, which sat on a plinth by the door. (Charles and Delia had been ready to get rid of it, but Lydia had insisted that having a murder weapon greet visitors to their home was “charming.”) “This piece is definitely making me feel things. I don’t think the artist intended ‘irritation,’ though.”

Lydia came up beside her. “This piece is kind of like a trophy for me.”

Claire grimaced. “And I just insulted your favourite piece of art. Sorry. So, why’s it a trophy?”

“I…kind of attacked an intruder with it.”

“’Attacked’?” Beetlejuice said, annoyed. “Why not ‘murdered’?”

Claire was speaking over Beetlejuice, having no idea he was talking. “You what?!” Her eyes lit up.

“Oh,” the demon continued, “I get it! We’re being all nice and normie for the breather!”

“That’s insane!” Claire was saying. “How did I not hear about this? Nothing _ever_ happens here.”

“Dad managed to hush it up, I think.”

Charles and Delia came in from the living room, Delia carrying Maitland. As the living greeted each other, Adam and Barbara went to the dining room and cleared away their place settings. She wiped her and Adam’s names and chores off the chore chart so there wouldn’t be any questions about them. Just a few swipes of a cloth and two missing place settings, and all traces of the Maitlands were gone from the common areas of the house.

Beetlejuice poofed away in a flash of yellow smoke. He left an extra-strong scent of graveyard and rotting flesh behind—as if he’d marked his territory.

The Maitlands sat in on the dinner, mostly to keep an eye out for Beetlejuice, but also to learn about Claire.

She loved poetry, and went to a local poetry slam every month. She was a gamer, and wanted to pursue creating games as a career. She’d already made a few text-based Choose-Your-Own-Adventure-style games in her spare time through something called Twine. She’d also lost her father when she was eight. Barbara could see how the two young women might have bonded over the loss of a parent.

When Claire was in the washroom, Barbara commented, “She seems very nice.”

“I’m sorry she can’t see you guys,” Lydia said. “I was sure she was just like me. We literally play a game where we people-watch and make up stories about how each person is going to die. How could she miss you right in front of her?”

“Well, I suppose a person can be strange and unusual without seeing dead people,” Adam said. “It doesn’t bother us, Lydia.”

“She seems like an intelligent, passionate young woman,” Barbara added. “And creative! You have that in common.”

Delia came in from nursing Maitland in the living room.

“Wait!” Lydia said. “Barbara, you should burp him! If Claire sees a floating baby, she’ll have questions.”

“Oh, sure.” Delia handed her a cloth to keep her dress clean, and she jiggled Maitland up and down, rubbing his back. She wasn’t entirely sure if Maitland could see her and Adam. At one month old, he wasn’t tracking movement very well yet.

 _And if he can’t see us, that’s okay_ , she reminded herself. Charles, Delia and Lydia had assured the Maitlands that they’d work on getting Maitland to see them. If they constantly referred to the Maitlands, of course the child would eventually see them. Charles and Delia hadn’t made that offer to Beetlejuice, but Barbara assumed Lydia had made him the same offer in private.

Claire came back from the washroom. She didn’t even look at Maitland, not even when Barbara moved into her field of vision. It was as if whatever blocked her from Claire’s sight blocked Maitland as well. The conversation continued.

Eventually, Maitland burped, and Barbara handed him back to Delia. Claire stared at Maitland for a few seconds, but she didn’t look disturbed or surprised. She probably figured Delia had always been holding Maitland.

Claire kindly offered to help clean up, but Charles wouldn’t hear of it. The girls went to the living room to hang out.

“People died in this house, right?” Claire asked. “The Maitlands, I think?”

“Yeah. How did you...?”

“Winter River is so boring that sometimes even stories about dead people are interesting. I took a clip of their obituary and put it in my inspiration binder. They seemed like a cute young couple.”

Lydia surreptitiously nodded to Barbara and Adam. “Want to see where the Maitlands died?”

Claire grinned. “Sure!”

As the girls went downstairs, Adam stayed back from the basement door. “Um, I’ll just stay here and help with the dishes.”

Barbara kissed his cheek. He’d never quite gotten over seeing their broken corpses lying in the basement. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Thanks.”

She walked down the stairs to hear Lydia saying, “It’s not much, really.” She was showing off the spot where Barbara and Adam had died to Claire. Beetlejuice was floating nearby; he brightened when he saw Barbara and zipped over to her side.

“Good evening, Barbara,” he said loudly. “Great weather we’re having these days, huh?”

“Sure?” Since when did Beetlejuice do small talk? “I mean, I think it’s great. It’s not like I can go outside or anything.”

“What? We can totally go outside, Babs! Sandworms don’t mean shit to me, remember?” Lydia was saying something to Claire, but Barbara couldn’t catch it with Beetlejuice talking so loudly close by. “Of course. I’d let my—” he suddenly began shouting “—VERY GOOD FRIEND, BARBARA, go outside. That’s just what BEST FRIENDS—” somehow, his voice managed to echo “—ARE FOR!”

 _Oh, that’s what this is._ “Well...I have been thinking about going to see my sister. She only lives 30 minutes away....”

Beetlejuice was nodding and paying absolutely no attention to her, his gaze fixed on Lydia and Claire. Barbara sighed.

Lydia cleared her throat, shooting Beetlejuice a dirty look. “Like I was saying, sometimes it gets cold. That’s how I know when the spirits of the Maitlands are in the room.”

Cold, a ghost could do. The _Handbook for the Recently Deceased_ didn’t teach ghosts how to haunt—it was meant to guide spirits to the other side, not encourage them to stay—but Barbara had read between the lines enough to pick up a few tricks.

The temperature began to sink. Barbara couldn’t feel it, but the skin on Claire’s arms pimpled and she shivered. Claire looked around, suddenly much more alert.

“Um, okay?” she whispered, breath steaming.

“Woah!” Beetlejuice was staring at her in awe. Barbara had to admit it felt good to surprise him. “What the fuck! Why didn’t anyone tell me we were haunting breathers?”

Barbara focused on appearing to Claire. She repeated her and Adam’s mantra: _I’m here, I’m happy, I’m human._ But it was hard to believe that when everything this evening had pointed to her undead nature.

Did Claire’s gaze linger where Barbara stood? Did someone finally see her?

Something chittered high above her, breaking Barbara’s concentration. Beetlejuice had become a giant beetle with large, dripping mandibles and far too many eyes. Barbara tried to use her ghostly power to turn him human(ish), but her energies slid right off him. She could’ve sworn his mandibles parted in a smug smile.

“Stop ruining this!” Barbara snapped. “Don’t you want to meet more people?”

The beetle’s eyes flared red and it chittered back at her.

“You know you didn’t have to do this, right?” Claire said.

Barbara turned her attention to the young woman. Claire wasn’t even looking at her and Beetlejuice—she was glaring at Lydia with her arms crossed.

“Do what?” Lydia asked, surprised.

“Whatever you’re doing,” Claire said coldly. “I already thought you were cool. You didn’t need to stage a haunting and drug my food.” Her gaze flicked to Beetlejuice and then Barbara before she shook her head. “I’m going home.”

“But—but it’s Barbara Maitland! You can see her, can’t you?” Lydia said. She reached out for Claire’s shoulder, but Claire’s furious glare made her drop her hand. “I’m not lying.”

Beetlejuice decided to be helpful by flying straight at Claire’s face, his giant wings buzzing and jaws clicking.

Claire jerked her head back then closed her eyes, breathing deeply, hand gripping the stair railing. “I’m sure that’s what you wish I was seeing. Bye, freak.” She stormed upstairs and left after a quiet exchange with either Charles or Delia.

Beetlejuice pulled off his beetle head, revealing his human head underneath. “Yeah, that’s right, run away, you goth poser! Pssh. We’re better off without her. Right, Lyds?”

Lydia’s only response was a scream of rage as she stomped upstairs.

Beetlejuice glanced at Barbara. “What’d I do wrong?”


	8. Fissures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire retaliates against Lydia—which means Beetlejuice has to retaliate against her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: bullying.

Claire didn’t just break off her friendship with Lydia. She spread gossip about Lydia throughout school.

The Maitland-Deetz adults found this out when Lydia came home from school and went straight to her room. She didn’t come down to dinner. Charles went to talk to her, as Barbara and Adam didn’t want to steal a bonding moment with Lydia's living parent. Charles called an emergency family meeting, one that Beetlejuice left in a puff of bright red smoke.

It was Beetlejuice that Barbara was worried about, particularly when she heard snarling and swearing from the basement. Barbara floated down to his room from the ceiling, so she wouldn't alert Beetlejuice to her presence.

The smell was so heinous Barbara just managed not to gasp: a mixture of Beetlejuice’s usual decaying stink and semen. Beetlejuice’s hair and outline was lit by the desktop screen; from what little she could see, it looked like he was messaging someone on a social media site. Barbara tried as hard as she could, but she couldn’t keep up with the latest socials.

The floor was littered with countless wadded up Kleenexes. And a stiff blanket, and a stiff sock. The forest of Kleenexes shifted as a giant centipede skittered through them. Somehow, though there were no water pipes in this part of the house, water was dripping slowly. It was an appropriate sound for a dungeon.

 _Oh, Lord—that sound is water, right?_ She scanned the ceiling, hoping nothing would drip on her. _I can’t take it anymore._ She was going to scream.

Barbara shut her eyes and counted to three. An image of Claire flashed through her mind. She was just a teenager who’d had an unfortunate misunderstanding with Lydia. She didn’t deserve the attentions of a demon.

"Go kill yourself, you dumb whore," Beetlejuice muttered as he typed. 

“Intruder, boss,” came a tiny voice from the ground. Barbara scanned the floor, but all she could see was the centipede. Had it said that?

Beetlejuice whipped around, and the desktop screen suddenly shifted to something Barbara was not about to watch. She stared Beetlejuice down, ignoring the flailing of limbs on the computer screen and the moans from the speakers.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Well, my evening usually starts with some bestiality, then I see where my mood takes me.”

_Wait, he just means watching bestiality, right? Ugh, as if that’s any better!_

Barbara grit her teeth. He was just trying to make her leave. She couldn’t rise to his bait. “That sounded like you were typing something very cruel, Beetlejuice.”

“Go sit on a dick, Babs,” he snarled. Then he looked thoughtful and pleasantly added, “Actually, please sit on a dick. Preferably mine.”

“Were you bullying a teenage girl?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “No.”

“Is that an appropriate reaction to the situation?”

His body and clothes became various shades of red, his eyes glowing bright scarlet. “ ** _YES!_** ” he roared, his voice echoing with demonic reverb. “ ** _SHE HURT LYDIA!_** ” Flames licked the air behind him, and smoke burst from his open mouth. “ ** _ONCE SHE’S DEAD, I’M SUMMONING A SANDWORM TO KILL HER FOREVER!_** ”

“I know she hurt Lydia. And that’s awful. But bullying a teenager—bullying anyone—is definitely evil. How do you think Lydia’s going to react when I tell her?”

“Eat shit, Babs!” he snarled. He considered what he’d just said, then pleasantly added, “Actually, that’s hot. Please eat shit out of my twitching—”

Barbara vanished to the door to the basement. She’d had more than enough of his foulness for one day. She ran into Lydia coming down to the basement.

“I heard the shouting,” the young woman said. “I’ll take it from here.”

“You don’t have to. I just needed a moment to regroup.” Now that she was out of Beetlejuice’s general area, the words sounded silly. _So he made a crude comment or two. He’s said worse._ _He didn’t threaten me. I should’ve been able to do more._ “He’s all of our responsibility, not just yours.”

“But I’m the only one he listens to.” Lydia frowned. “Maybe going away to college isn’t such a good idea.”

“It’s a perfect idea.” Lydia had been so excited when her early acceptance letter had come from NYU. “You can’t let that demon dictate your entire future.”

“Why not? I’m obviously no good at making breather friends....”

Barbara didn’t like that Lydia was using Beetlejuice’s slang. “Which is partly his fault, don’t forget! And partly mine. Things would’ve been fine if I hadn’t started haunting Claire. It was such a lovely dinner party.”

“You only haunted her because I asked you to. At least if I go away for college, I won’t ever have to see her again. Ugh, I’m so I glad I only have a few months of high school left!” Using her frustration, she stomped downstairs.

Barbara heard a “Hey, psycho!” before she decided to leave Lydia to it. Lydia later reported that she’d watched him delete all the social media accounts he’d made to bully Claire.

It would do something to make up for the damage they’d inflicted on the poor girl.

* * *

The Maitland-Deetz household didn’t see much of Claire after that. Now and then, they’d see her and her mother visit the graveyard and lay some flowers on her father’s grave.

One time, Claire looked over at the Deetz-Maitland house while Barbara was painting in the attic. Barbara paused, set her brush down, approached the window and waved at the young woman. It was too far away to make out facial expressions, but she kept hers friendly.

After a few moments of staring up at the attic window, Claire took out her phone, obviously taking a photo. That wouldn’t show Barbara’s existence, of course. She could convince herself Barbara was just a trick of the light.

But Claire lowered the phone after a moment and kept staring up at Barbara.

Barbara waved again.

Claire turned away, taking her mother’s hand as they walked back to the car.

Barbara couldn’t blame Claire. When she was alive, she probably wouldn’t have believed in a hidden world of ghosts and demons, either. It was one thing to talk about death or speculate what came after. But actually having proof was something far beyond what any teenager should have to accept.

“I hope you have a great life, Claire Brewster,” Barbara whispered to her. As Claire got into her car and her mother drove them away, Barbara went back to painting.


	9. Chrissy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beetlejuice takes the Maitlands to visit Barbara's sister, Chrissy, which leads to some uncomfortable revelations.

For someone so obsessed with death, Lydia brought a lot of life to the home. Barbara only realized that when she was in New York for university. The Maitland-Deetz house was different without Lydia’s cool half-smile, her dry jokes, her sudden whims that created Séance Saturdays or casual Fridays where everyone stayed in their pyjamas all day. (Barbara had once tried to draw a parallel between Lydia and Delia both being such free spirits, but Lydia hadn’t appreciated it.)

In what had become a habit, Barbara and Adam were staring into her bedroom, set up for when she would come back over holidays and the summer. It held her skull collection, a few attempts a taxidermy, lots of photos, and creepy artwork. Lydia was going through a triumphant Little Red Riding Hood phase right now: two of the main paintings were a redhaired girl wearing a wolf pelt and a woman cutting herself out of a wolf’s stomach, drenched in blood. Barbara didn’t want to see Lydia’s entire life through the filter of Beetlejuice-related trauma, but something about that image clearly resonated with her.

“I miss her so much,” Barbara said.

“Me too.”

The alert on Barbara’s phone went off. She’d written 5:30 pm – _Ask Beetlejuice_. “Well, here goes nothing.”

They found the demon watching TV, which in Beetlejuice’s case meant flipping channels every time he got bored, which was often.

“Beetlejuice, we have a non-sexual favour to ask you.”

“Not interested.”

“It’ll get us out of the house, at least.”

“Unless the phrase ‘public nudity’ comes out of your mouth, nope.”

“It would be very _good_ of you to do this for me, Beetlejuice.”

They had to wait 20 minutes for him to remember that being good was part of his promise to Lydia. He grimaced in distaste, rolled his eyes, groaned loudly, then finally snapped, “What?”

“I want to visit my sister. Her apartment’s in Muldare.”

“Why does everyone care so much about their fucking families?” he grumbled.

“Because most people love their families.”

Beetlejuice opened his mouth.

“I get it,” Barbara said quickly. “You don’t. Your mother was awful, I know.”

Beetlejuice blinked then smiled. “Heh. Picking up on my no-backstory bit. Nice.”

There were only so many horrific stories of child abuse Barbara could take. She showed Beetlejuice the street view of Chrissy’s apartment. He stood, cracking his neck and stretching his shoulders out.

“Okay, so you gotta hold on to me for teleportation,” Beetlejuice instructed.

“Like Disapparation,” Adam said cheerfully. It took Barbara a few moments to remember that reference—she’d watched the _Harry Potter_ movies with Adam, but she wasn’t a big fan of fantasy and sci-fi.

“Fucking nerd,” Beetlejuice grumbled.

“Being a nerd is cool now.”

“No, watching Marvel movies and _Game of Thrones_ is cool. You’re still just a sad nerd.”

Adam put his arm around Barbara’s waist. “Not that sad.”

Beetlejuice glowered at them.

“So,” Barbara said, “we have to hold on to you. I feel like this is a good time to remind everyone that not groping people is part of the house rules.”

Beetlejuice sighed heavily. “Because you hate me having fun.”

“Your fun involves murder and sexual assault, so yes, I do.”

“You guys are the worst.” He grabbed them both. With a pop, the world shifted.

The years hadn’t changed Chrissy’s place much. Same dull brown carpet, beige walls and IKEA furniture that needed a good dusting. That large crack running across the stucco ceiling seemed to have gotten larger. There was an adorable Bunny Ears cactus in a pot by the window. There weren’t anymore playbills framed on the wall. Had Chrissy stopped acting? Barbara had died four years ago. Surely, Chrissy would’ve returned to her lifelong passion by now.

Chrissy lay on the couch, still in a waitress uniform. Before Barbara had died, she’d had a job as a receptionist at a physiotherapy clinic, and she’d loved it. What happened to that? She wasn’t wearing makeup, and her fair skin clearly showed the circles under her eyes. She was dully watching _RuPaul’s Drag Race_ , a glass of wine in hand. Pinot grigio, probably, if it was still her favourite. _Drinking on a Wednesday night? That’s not like her._

Barbara sucked in a breath. “Chrissy?”

Her sister didn’t react. Barbara wished that didn’t hurt so much. Adam’s hand on her shoulder was the only thing that kept her from crying like a child.

Beetlejuice looked at Barbara and scoffed. “You know what’s better than feeling sad? Haunting your sister! We’re all newly dead, baby. Enough scares and she’ll see you.”

“That’s not why I’m here. It’s not fair to draw her into this world. She should be busy living her life.”

Beetlejuice snorted, gesturing to her dead-eyed sister. “That’s going real well for her.”

“Stop it,” Barbara hissed. “Just—just shut up! So what if she’s unwinding watching TV? Everyone does that!”

A roar from outside distracted Beetlejuice from whatever he was going to say next. He zipped over to the window. “Ah, here we go. Right on time.”

A sandworm was baring its second head outside Chrissy’s apartment window. It seemed insane that she couldn’t see it.

Beetlejuice burst outside, shouting, “Hey there, sandworm! It’s me, ya boy!”

“Is there anything I can do?” Adam asked softly.

“I don’t know, Adam—bring us back to life?” she snapped.

He flinched, but didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, embarrassed by her outburst.

“No apology necessary.”

Barbara stared at the rustic wooden Live, Laugh, Love wall hanging next to the TV. If she moved that, would Chrissy see it? Or would she just ignore it, like Claire had when Barbara was holding Maitland? 

Barbara explored the rest of Chrissy’s apartment. Mail was scattered by the front door; boots, coats scarves had been thrown into the closet instead of being hung up. Chrissy had always been a bit messy—cleanliness was one Barbara and Chrissy’s main arguments when they’d shared a room—but this was worse than usual. She hadn’t vacuumed, she wasn’t picking up her clothes, and she definitely hadn’t changed Cricket’s litterbox lately. Barbara gagged at the smell.

The little grey and white cat was lying on top of the microwave. When Barbara and Adam entered the kitchen, she raised her head from her paws. Her fur fluffed up and she stared wildly around before bolting away. Beetlejuice had mentioned that sometimes animals could sense ghosts. Cricket’s reaction probably wouldn’t help reveal their presence to Chrissy, though—cats always acted weird.

Barbara poked her head through the fridge door. There were a lot of wine bottles in there. Far more than any single woman needed.

Barbara returned to the living room. Outside, Beetlejuice shouted, “Say hello to my little friend!” as he fired black-and-white-striped machine guns at two sandworms. Barbara sat down on the armchair of the couch, stroking her sister’s short-cropped hair.

“Hey, Chrissy. It’s Sissy.” When had they started that silly rhyme? It had always been part of her memories of her sister. “I came here because I wanted to know you were okay. But I don’t think you are.” She sniffled. “I don’t know what I can do to help you. But I’m here for you, okay? I’ll stop by every week. No—more. I’ll make the demon take us.”

She glanced at Adam, wiping at the tears forming in her eyes. “Or just me. You don’t need to see me like this.” She shouldn’t assume he wanted to come with her. They were married, and in a rather unusual situation, but that didn’t mean they had to do everything together.

Adam knelt before her, taking her free hand in his. “I’ll go anywhere with you, Barbara. You know that. Besides, she’s my family, too.”

Barbara often wondered what she’d done to deserve Adam. They sat for a while, Barbara stroking Chrissy’s hair, Adam holding her other hand, the silence broken by sandworm shrieks and Beetlejuice belting out “Red—the eyes of angry ‘worms! Black—the dead of sandworms past!” while firing a musket.

“I guess it couldn’t hurt to drain a wine bottle or two?” Barbara suggested. She had no idea if it would help. It might just make Chrissy spend more money on wine to replace what was lost.

“Hmm. Maybe we should do some research before—”

Beetlejuice popped his head in. “Hey, pals! Ugh, so bored of fighting sandworms. Let’s go home.”

Adam frowned. “That has nothing to do with the five sandworms behind you, right?”

Beetlejuice glanced over his shoulder carelessly. “Pffbbt, I can fight five. I just don’t _want_ to.” He wasn’t quite so calm when he teleported behind Adam and Barbara, squeezed them close together, and shifted the world around them.

They appeared back Maitland-Deetz’s living room. But something else was different: Barbara was warm. So warm that she almost felt alive.

“What...?” she murmured.

“Shit,” Beetlejuice hissed in surprise.

It was Adam who figured it out. “We’re touching. All three of us, I mean.”

Sure enough, Barbara and Adam hadn’t let go of each other’s hands when Beetlejuice teleported them, and Beetlejuice was holding them both by the shoulders.

“Huh,” was all Barbara could manage. God, it’d been so long. The living took so much for granted.

“Mmhmm,” Adam added.

Was that a heartbeat? Or had she just imagined that?

Beetlejuice’s “Wanna bang?” snapped Barbara out of her trance.

There was a half-second where Barbara almost said ‘No, but can we keep touching?’ Being almost-alive felt so good.... But, of course, Beetlejuice would always make touching the Maitlands into something sexual. The propositions and dirty comments would ramp up.

She stepped out of Beetlejuice’s arms and dropped her hand from Adam. Ice cold descended. “Absolutely not.”

Beetlejuice’s expression tightened in the start of a tantrum. But after a moment, his shoulders drooped and he sighed heavily. Staring into the middle distance, he muttered, “Did I misread the tags on this fic? The rating? Nine chapters and we haven’t even fucked!” He ran his hand through his hair. A spider skittered from his hair to his sleeve. “Maybe the author changed the fic’s direction and forgot to update the blurb? But who would do that? A ghost porn fic is gold! The readership is so thirsty! But not thirsty for this slice-of-life family drama bullshit.”

Barbara had no idea what the heck Beetlejuice was saying, but she had more important things on her mind. “Thanks so much for the trip, Beetlejuice. Can we go back again next week? We’ll go with a plan this time, so we won’t stay so long.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I mean, if I don’t have anything better to do.” He poofed away.

In a haze, Barbara followed Adam to their bedroom. He took her in his arms, and she rested her forehead against his. He stroked her cheek, and she stroked his. Her fingers reached up, toying with his hair. _Let that demon insult us and prank us and tease us. We have this, and that’s more than that needy pervert will ever have._

They stayed like this until their morning alarm sounded. It was time for the Deetzes’ breakfast.

“We’ll have a brainstorming session today,” Adam said. “We'll come up with a plan to help your sister." 

“Thanks. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”


	10. The Floor is Lava

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beetlejuice doesn't always make the best babysitter for a toddler.

As Maitland grew and started walking and running, Beetlejuice started paying more attention to him. The demon’s interest wasn’t regular—he couldn’t be trusted to watch Maitland even if the Maitland-Deetzes would’ve allowed that. But sometimes the demon seemed to enjoy Maitland’s company. He liked to conjure bugs for Maitland to play with (or, as was usually the case, eat).

But he didn’t try to attack Maitland. He didn’t hurt him at all, in fact. 

Gradually, the Maitland-Deetzes’ trust grew, and Beetlejuice could watch Maitland as long as one of them were in earshot. Barbara knew to come running whenever she heard Beetlejuice and Maitland giggling. One time, Maitland had thrown his diaper across the room. Another time, Beetlejuice had howled in laughter as Maitland fingerpainted with poop on his bedroom wall. He never helped clean up, of course.

One day, Barbara was doing the laundry in the basement when she heard Beetlejuice saying, “What’s up, M?”

“Can’t touch da floor,” the two-year-old replied.

“Huh?”

“Da floor is laba.”

“What?”

“Laba, Unca BJ. Is hot and bad!”

“Oh, lava! No, it’s just the floor. Now _this_ —” there was a sudden roar and hiss, as if something was melting “—is lava.”

Before she could think, Barbara had teleported to the living room. Adam was also there. They snatched Maitland up from the couch and hugged him tight, floating to the ceiling to keep him safe from whatever havoc Beetlejuice had unleashed.

Which was nothing. Barbara stared wildly, seeing only a normal floor, couch, ottoman, and Beetlejuice grinning up at them.

“What—what did you do?” Adam demanded shakily.

Beetlejuice cackled. “Nothing! I just wanted to see what you guys would do. Holy shit! You actually remembered you’re ghosts. You’re floating and everything!”

“Mama, Papa, pud me down! You cold,” Maitland whined. Maitland was wearing a cute yellow sundress today, so his arms must be freezing where they pressed against him.

Barbara and Adam floated down and set him on the floor. Barbara glared at Beetlejuice, who was still giggling to himself.

“Sorry, sweetie.” Barbara adjusted the bright pink ribbon in his hair.

He beamed up at them. “Wuv ya, Mama!” he cooed, wrapping his arms around her legs.

Charles had told her to savour these days; teenagers tended to be much less prone to spontaneous hugs. Barbara bent down and hugged him back, kissing the top of his head.

“Wuv ya, Papa!”

Adam had, as usual, taken out the Maitlands’ phone to record this moment; he handed the phone to Barbara to accept the hug. Barbara glanced through the phone—it was running out of storage space from all their videos, again.

"Don't you mean you 'lava' me, Maity?" Adam asked with a grin.

Barbara smiled fondly at her her husband. "Hush, you. He's still too young to understand Dad Jokes."

Maitland turned and held out his arms to his floating uncle. “Wuv ya, Unca BJ!”

The demon didn’t move in for a hug. He stayed floating and rolled his eyes. “The other day, you said ‘I love you’ to your shoe. Your love comes cheap, kid.”

“Flash card time, sweetie?” Adam asked. They were working on food today.

“Okay!”

As Adam pulled out flash cards, Beetlejuice looked distracted. He fidgeted more than usual. After the first two flash cards, he poofed away in a sulphurous puff of blue smoke.

Barbara went down to the basement to check up on him. Through the door, she heard him sobbing, with the voices of a few other Beetlejuice clones (or skeletons, or bugs) consoling him.

“It’s okay, boss,” said a female-sounding voice. “We all know you’re still an evil demon even if you’d die for some random kid.”

“Something’s probably gonna kill him,” another manifestation said helpfully. “Then you won’t feel this way anymore.”

There was a pop and a moment of silence.

“Anybody else wanna remind me that Maitland’s gonna die?” Beetlejuice growled.

“Nope!”

“No way!”

“Maitland? That kid’s gonna live forever!”

“Yeah, we’ll make sure he does!”

“Good,” Beetlejuice said, sounding pleased. Then he started sniffling again.

Barbara left the demon to his feelings.


	11. Coming Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Maitland-Deetz house is haunted by a were-vampire, Barbara tries to get Lydia to reconsider her deal with Beetlejuice, and Claire Brewster returns.

Maitland adored his big sister. Lydia often read Edgar Allan Poe or Stephen King to him. When Adam had objected, she’d said, “He’s too young to understand, guys.” Maitland took Lydia as his fashion inspiration, and she started bringing him black dresses and skull fascinators to wear.

When Lydia wasn’t reading to him, the house was full of old music and impromptu dance contests between the siblings. Maitland’s favourite song at age two was _La Bamba_. Adam, Barbara and Beetlejuice would let the two kids float in the air, Adam and Barbara by telekinesis, Beetlejuice by a tornado of bats or beetles. Maitland loved creepy-crawlies, and giggled as the horde swarmed around him.

One summer day, Barbara stepped into the kitchen to Lydia lying on floor with red juice spilled over her, contorted in agony, Beetlejuice watching in dog-form, and Adam filming while Maitland licked the juice off the floor.

“Maity! Don’t drink from the floor, sweetie.” She picked him up to try and redirect him.

Maitland roared in her face, juice dripping down his chin.

“Relax, Babs,” said Beetle-dog. “You clean the floor every goddamn day. Why can’t we eat off it?” Beetle-dog was one of Beetlejuice’s favourite forms for playing with Maitland: a scruffy black-and-white-striped dog with beetle wings and antennae. Beetle-dog began demonstrating by lapping up the juice near Lydia.

“Lydia, you couldn’t have stopped him?”

“She’s dead,” Adam said cheerfully. “Slain by the were-vampire.”

Maitland tried to bite her neck, but she held him farther away from her. “Nom!”

“Really, Adam?”

“Who am I to stifle creativity?”

“I wanna ride!” Maitland squealed.

“Be careful,” Barbara warned Beetle-dog before setting him onto Beetle-dog’s back.

Beetle-dog spread his wings and flew off, Maitland giggling.

Adam stopped filming and lowered his phone. “I hope this isn’t going to be played at the beginning of a documentary about the Connecticut Strangler or something.”

Lydia sat up. “Hey, Mom and I played these kind of weird games all the time, and I turned out fine.” She grabbed some paper towels and began wiping up.

“Lydia,” Barbara said. “It’s so lovely outside. Why don’t you take a walk? Maybe call up some friends and catch up?”

Lydia smiled dryly. “We’re catching up right now, aren’t we?”

“I meant friends your own age.”

With her worldly 19-year-old way, she said, “People my own age are assholes, Barbara.” After a moment, she said, “But Claire and I are hanging out this afternoon.”

“Oh, Claire! She’s back in your life, then?”

“It surprised me too when she messaged me and apologized for that high school BS. I don’t know where we’ll go from here, but it’s a start. So don’t worry, Barbara. I am appropriately socialized. I won’t bite people or pee on the rug.”

Barbara would always worry that Lydia didn’t seem to have many friends, but she had to admit that Lydia seemed to be happy alone. Barbara had married an introvert, but Lydia’s loner tendencies still worried her.

Barbara hesitated, then asked, “How are all the protests going?”

Lydia shrugged and sighed. “Nothing ever changes. I get pepper sprayed and arrested, Daddy pays my bail, I do a little community service, and the world is as shitty as it ever was.”

“I think you’re changing the world,” she said fervently. “Honestly, I wish I’d known you when I was alive. I could have learned a lot from you about being a good global citizen.”

Lydia snorted, shaking her head. “I’m not doing all this to be good. I’m doing this to make change!”

“You can’t always see the changes you make. Give it time.”

“Just in my lifetime, we got gay marriage,” Adam commented. “When I was a kid, two guys or two girls kissing was a joke. Now, I can say I’m bisexual, and it’s no big deal. Things can change and get better, even if it’s hard to see now.”

Lydia looked a bit surprised, but nodded. “You never mentioned the bi thing before.”

“It’s doesn’t come up much in my life—” Adam squeezed Barbara’s shoulder “—what with marrying the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Aww.” Barbara kissed his cheek.

It had taken Adam and Barbara some work to get to this point. When Adam had first come out to his wife, Barbara had had a few biphobic worries. What if he left her for a man? What if she could never give him what he truly wanted? But she’d worked through that. Now, the Maitlands even had a private joke about what would happen if Paul Rudd somehow died in Connecticut, didn’t go to the Netherworld, and was also bisexual or at least open to a little experimentation.

“We haven’t told You-Know-Who yet,” Barbara said.

“I’m not giving him even the slightest sliver of hope that he’s going to kiss me again,” Adam added.

“Wait, that’s what you call Beetlejuice? He’s Voldemort now?”

Barbara laughed in embarrassment. “I guess it’s a little superstition Adam and I developed.”

“Would’ve figured you more for an HP Lovecraft fan than a Harry Potter fan,” Adam commented. Barbara wasn’t as big a nerd as Adam—she had no idea who HP Lovecraft was.

Lydia seemed to, and the name didn’t impress her. “What, that racist fu—” she cleared her throat “—fartbag? No way. I do like some more modern takes on the Cthulu mythos, though. I can pick some up for you from the library, if you want?”

“That’d be great. Thanks.”

Barbara had a sudden idea. “Oh, Lydia, you could take Claire to Winter River Coffee. That’s where Adam and I had our first date. Not that this is a date,” she added quickly.

“Um, about that.... I don’t know if I’m going to do the dating thing. I’m not a hundred per cent sure, but I think I’m either aromantic or demiromantic. I’m definitely asexual.” Her gaze went to their faces as she took in their reactions.

Barbara had Delia’s accessible Gen-Z websites to thank for not looking confused or asking a lot of ignorant questions. “Oh. Thank you for telling us, Lydia.”

“I haven’t told Dad and Delia yet,” Lydia said. “I’m still not used to it. I keep wondering how Mom would’ve reacted.” Her gaze went distant. “I wish I’d known enough about how I felt to tell her. I can just imagine coming home one day to find my walls painted with ace pride colours. Mom was pretty extra like that.” She exhaled slowly through her nose. “I haven’t told Beetlejuice yet, either. He’s either going to be chill with it, or I’ll have to explain what ‘lack of sexual attraction to anyone’ means to him a thousand times.

“So, Maitlands, thanks for letting me come out of the deck....”

“The deck?” Adam asked.

“The deck of cards. That’s where they keep—”

“The aces. Right. Are you coming for my Dad Joke crown?”

“I could never hope to compete, Adam.”

Lydia squeezed their hands before she left the house. A gust of wind came in from the outside. Barbara missed just walking around, greeting her neighbours.

“Should we paint her room for her?” Adam asked. “We have the time.”

Barbara shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t even want to try to fill Emily’s shoes. It might just make her sad.”

The chat with Claire must have gone well—hours later, when Lydia returned to the Maitland-Deetz house, so did Claire. Barbara and Adam were reading in the living room when she came in. Claire’s blond dreads had become a short pink Afro, and she’d collected a few more tattoos in the past two years. Barbara liked the one of the rose and bleeding thorns on her upper arm.

Barbara nodded to Lydia and had turned back to her book when Lydia stepped into the living room and said, “Claire, meet Barbara and Adam Maitland.”

Barbara dropped her book. Claire was looking at the two of them.

“Excuse me?” Adam said, staring between Lydia and Claire.

“Hello,” Claire said.

It was the first word that anyone outside of the family had spoken to them in years.

“How can you...?” Adam asked, standing and setting his book aside.

“You’re one of the things I was messaging Lydia about,” Claire said. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you before.”

“We don’t mind,” Barbara said quickly. “We don’t expect that kind of thing from the living.”

Suddenly, a swarm of beetles flew into the living room, swooping around the living and ghosts.

“And that’s Beetlejuice,” Lydia added dryly.

One of the beetles landed on Lydia’s shoulder and turned to Claire. “Oh, sorry! Didn’t see you there. Clea, was it?”

“You know who Claire is, psycho.”

The swarm vanished and became Beetlejuice standing protectively behind Lydia. “I actually don’t remember a thing, Lyds. Because if I did, I’d remember a Claire Brewster who made everyone in high school think you were a freak.”

“You’re right,” Claire said softly. “That was a crappy thing to do, and I’ve apologized to Lydia for it.”

“Isn’t this nice?” Barbara said. “Something bad happened, but with empathy, kindness and hard work, something good came of it.” She made sure to catch Lydia’s gaze. _And nobody had to say a demon’s name three times, Lydia._

Lydia nodded slightly to Barbara. She’d picked up on the subtext. But was it enough to change her mind?

Claire kept glancing at the Maitlands, but they didn’t make more than small talk. She probably had quite a few questions, but she wasn’t brave enough to just come out and say them yet. Barbara didn’t mind. Claire could ask whatever she liked. They had time to get to know each other now.

The two young women eventually left to play video games.

Adam was keeping an eye on Beetlejuice. “So, buddy, Lydia has a new friend. How do you feel about that?”

“Why should I feel anything?” Beetlejuice idly examined his black nails. “Everyone needs a stupid breather friend to make their awesome ghost friend look even more awesome. In fact, I’m relieved! Now Lyds can talk to Claire about...I don’t fucking know, college applications.”

“Buddy, she’s in university. She has been for two years.”

“Sure, whatever. Hey, where’s the fuse box in this dump?”

“Beetlejuice,” Adam said in a disappointed tone, “are you going to turn off the power to Lydia’s room so she and Claire can’t play video games together?”

“No!”

Barbara wasn’t always the queen of comebacks, but this time, she had something. “That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Then they could just hang out and start really talking. Have those kind of deep conversations that lead to a good, solid bond.”

The demon raised his middle finger at the two of them. “FUCK YOU GUYS!” he snarled.

Barbara and Adam fist-bumped as he poofed away in a puff of red smoke. Remembering playground arguments and middle school mind-games, Barbara couldn’t help but pity him. It was always tough when your best friend started hanging out with someone new.

“Why don’t we bake him a cake?” Barbara suggested. “Give him a momentary distraction from thoughts of murder and mayhem?”

“Sounds good. Nana’s spice cake?” It was Barbara’s favourite.

“You know it, mister.”


	12. Slumber Where Thy Bones Do Dwell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all of Beetlejuice's pranks are so innocent. After a failed trick, the demon's anger gets the better of him...only to have a banishment spell go horribly wrong.

One evening when Maitland was six, Barbara passed by Beetlejuice reading to Maitland from a picture book. That was odd. Maitland was a voracious reader, and had long ago graduated to reading chapter books. And Beetlejuice was watching him so intensely that the demon didn’t even notice Barbara.

An uneasy feeling made her stop and listen.

“Though I know I should be wary,” Maitland read, “still I venture someplace scary. Ghostly hauntings, I turn loose: Uncle’s name, Uncle’s name, Uncle’s name. Hey, that doesn’t rhyme!”

Barbara bolted into Maitland’s bedroom and snatched the book from him.

“Mom!” Maitland said, startled.

Beetlejuice’s colours snapped to red, all except his teeth, which remained yellow and became fangs. He hissed up at her like a snake about to strike.

“Uncle BJ?” Maitland said quietly, scooting back from him.

The demon’s gaze flickered to Maitland. His lips pursed, covering up his fangs, and the red began leeching from him.

Keeping one eye on the demon, Barbara said to Maitland, “Sweetie, nobody’s upset at you. Uncle BJ was playing a prank, that’s all. A mean, evil prank.”

Only the tips of Beetlejuice’s hair were red as he gave what he must have thought was a charming smile. His teeth weren’t pointed anymore. “Babs, baby, I can explain....”

“I wasn’t saying Uncle BJ’s name,” Maitland protested. His parents had laid down that house rule as soon as he was old enough to understand it. “I was _reading_.”

“Family meeting, demon. _Now_.”

In the living room, Beetlejuice tried to explain himself to a white-faced Charles and Delia. “C’mon, guys! You gotta say my name three times. There’s guns in schools, pedophiles in vans, murderers on the streets! I’ll protect Maity from all that shit!”

Charles glared at Beetlejuice. “Until a child teases him on a playground and you decide to kill them.”

“I won’t. Scout’s honour, Dad!”

Charles swallowed. A muscle in his jaw twitched. Quietly, he said, “I’ve had movers programmed into my phone ever since you came back. The only reasons I haven’t left is because Lydia believes there’s good in you, and the Maitlands are dear friends.”

Barbara summoned the _Handbook for the Recently Deceased_ , keeping it behind her back as she opened it so Beetlejuice wouldn’t notice. Adam passed her the chicken bone talisman they’d hidden in the depths of the attic. This particular banishment spell seemed the least harmful of the lot.

“Put one toe out of line,” Charles continued, “and we’ll move across the country or farther. Lydia told me you can’t move far from where you were buried without someone saying your name.

“If you ever try to trick Maitland like that again, I’ll take him from you.”

They’d seen Beetlejuice’s face when he was murderous, and they saw it now. His colours snapped to red, he bared pointed teeth, and his eyes lit with Netherworld-green light—and then the lights exploded. Unnatural darkness descended on the living room.

“ ** _No one takes Maitland from me_** ,” the demon rasped, voice echoing.

Barbara wanted to pass the book to Delia, but the darkness meant the living woman couldn’t read the incantation. They had one shot; the consequences for a misspoken rhyme could be deadly.

So Barbara held out the bone and shouted, “Cast from heaven and from hell / Slumber where thy bones do dwell!”

The darkness vanished. Beetlejuice’s murderous gaze turned to utter shock. His colours were back to his usual. He began sliding toward the bone—which dropped from Barbara’s transparent hand. Without thinking, Barbara knelt down to touch the chicken bone.

“No!” someone cried out. Warm arms held her back, keeping her from her goal.

“Adam, don’t—” someone else shouted.

There were so many words. So many voices. The living world was exhausting. _Lydia and Maitland don’t need us. They have their real family. The living don’t need the dead._

Staying here was pointless. She hadn’t slept in so many years....

“The book, Charles! Close it!”

There was a thud. Barbara began sinking through the arms holding her, toward the bone that was all she could see.

“It didn’t—“

“The bone!”

A foot in a high-heeled shoe entered Barbara’s field of vision. A heavy stomp followed.

The pull to the bone vanished.

Delia was holding her tightly. “Barbara?” she whispered. She turned Barbara around to face her. Tears wavered in her dark brown eyes.

Barbara felt hollow. All she wanted to do was sleep.

“Good thinking Delia,” Charles said. “Adam? How are you feeling?”

“She’s just staring at me,” Delia murmured. “She hasn’t even blinked.” She shuddered. “But...well, at least her hand came back. Barbara? Darling, can you hear me?” She waved her hand in front of Barbara’s face.

When would the living leave her alone? She’d have no peace in this realm.

“The fucking slumber spell?!” Beetlejuice shouted. He floated into Barbara’s vision, his grey skin unusually pale. “You dumbshits! That’s an area of effect spell! You should’ve used Touch of—” He stopped himself. “Nevermind. And a chicken bone?! Jesus Christ, it’s supposed to be my own goddamn bone! You could’ve—you could’ve been sleeping forever, you fucking morons!”

That sounded fine to Barbara.

“Cast from heaven and from hell,” Adam chanted, “slumber where thy bones do dwell.”

Happily, Barbara closed her eyes, anticipating release. Nothing happened.

“Don’t worry, without the bone, they’re just words,” Beetlejuice said.

Barbara tried, “Cast from heaven and from hell, slumber where thy bones do dwell.”

“Fucking annoying words.”

“Cast from heaven and from—”

“What are they doing?” Charles demanded over Barbara and Adam’s chants.

“Spells like this are meant to kick ghosts outta homes! Especially stupid low-powered baby ghosts. The spell’s made ‘em want to sleep. But don’t get your panties in a bunch, they’ll be normal in a few months. But, uh, maybe don’t eat anything with bones. And make sure they don’t try to use yours.”

Barbara’s eyes snapped open. The living had bones inside them. Wet with blood. Rich with marrow.

And a living woman stood right in front of her.

“Oh,” Beetlejuice said in a small voice, “fuck me.”

Delia stepped back, jaw dropping. “Barbara?” she squeaked, showing off her bright white teeth.

Barbara could tear them from her mouth easily.

But when she lunged for Delia, a black-and-white-striped rope lassoed her. She tried to phase through it, but another’s power kept her stuck in her limited body.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” Beetlejuice muttered.

Adam was screaming in rage somewhere to her left. All Barbara could focus on was Delia. Growling, she reached out, clawing at the living woman. The skin of her arm was pale and tinged with green, with green moss blooming in patches.

“Okay,” Beetlejuice grumbled, “I know I’m supposed to ask for consent before touching you guys, but fuck this.”

He swung them both together. As the ropes grew and tightened around them, Beetlejuice grabbed both of their hands and pressed them together.

Warmth flooded Barbara’s body. She gasped. Adam grunted in surprise.

“Adam?” she murmured.

“I’m here, Barbara. Holy smokes, what just happened?”

“Maitlands?” Charles said quietly. He was standing protectively in front of his wife.

“I—oh, God—Charles, Delia.... I’m _so_ sorry.” Had her skin really been covered in moss? Had she become a demon, just like Beetlejuice? The Deetzes were staring at the three ghosts like they were waiting for them to snap and start attacking.

_And I deserve it. I can’t believe I did that!_

“It’s all right,” Charles said. “We’re just happy to have you back. You...you are back, right?”

Delia said, “Maybe we should leave with Maitland while Beetlejuice tests—”

Beetlejuice was listening to other people as well as he usually did—not at all—and took his hand off Barbara and Adam’s before Delia had even finished her thought.

Barbara’s temperature dropped, but her mind was her own. “The spell’s broken, I think.”

Beetlejuice pressed their hands together again a second later. “I dunno, I think I saw ‘em looking a little corpse-y.” He winked at her. “You two make cute demons, by the way. Can’t wait to see you look like that again in a few centuries.”

Barbara almost said ‘If we’ll be staying that long,’ but she stopped herself. That reminded her too much of what had just happened. She couldn’t look Charles and Delia in the eye.

“Um, ropes off, buddy?” Adam asked.

“Hope we can all appreciate that I’m not making a joke about tying the Maitlands up.” The ropes vanished.

Once they did, Delia and Charles hugged them. With a sigh, Beetlejuice dropped the Maitlands’ hands. Delia kissed Barbara’s forehead, while Charles clapped Adam on the back and squeezed Barbara’s shoulder.

“We’re so glad you’re here, Maitlands,” Delia said. She sounded like she meant it. Why?

“Even after all the chaos?” Barbara blurted out. “Your lives could be so normal if we weren’t—”

“Normal is overrated,” Charles said softly.

“The Touch of Hades,” Beetlejuice said.

“What?”

The demon was hovering a few feet away from the Maitlands and Deetzes, holding the _Handbook for the Recently Deceased_. “Page 1,089. The Touch of Hades. If I ever get that pissed again, use that spell on me. Even dumbass ghost-babies should be able to say it without glitching out. Of course,” he shrugged broadly, “you’d have to trust that I’m telling the truth. I get that trust’s kinda in short supply right now.

“But....” He bobbed in silence for a few moments, crossing and uncrossing his arms, then said, “I also know what it’s like to grow up without a parent. I don’t want that for Maity or Lyds. No kid deserves that.”

It was Delia who broke the silence. “By the power invested in me by the Winter River Wellness Clinic and Crystal Therapy Centre, I order you to take mandatory anger management counseling. My office, 5 PM, every Monday and Wednesday. Don’t be late.”

“Yes’m,” he muttered, scuffing his foot against the invisible ground.

“That sounds reasonable,” Charles said, though he sounded understandably wary.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Barbara treated Beetlejuice like she would any friend who’d saved her life: she floated up to where he hovered and opened her arms to hug him.

His eyebrows rose so high they escaped off his face and hovered above his hair. Then he leapt into her arms, squeezing her tightly.

“Thank you, Beetlejuice. I’m so sorry I put you—and everyone—through this. And if you make this hug weird, I’m never touching you again.”

“Is touching your butt weird?”

“Yes.”

“Hand on lower back?”

“Yes.”

“Sniffing your hair?”

“You know, I think I’m ending this here.” She phased out of his arms, floating back down to the ground.

He turned to Adam, grinning. “Do I get a hug from you?”

“I don’t think I’m here yet.”

The emergency parenting meeting that had turned into an actual emergency was quickly adjourned. For once, Barbara and Adam didn't pretend to go to sleep. They sat on the living room couch and held each other until morning.


	13. Gender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maitland comes to a realization, and Barbara struggles to keep up with changing times.

Saturday afternoons were Charles’s main father-son bonding time. He and Maitland spent the afternoon doing whatever Maitland wanted, which was usually visiting a museum or a historical site. (Adam had cheerfully lent Charles every book he had on Connecticut history and landmarks.)

But one Saturday, when Maitland was seven, he objected to the name. “Does it have to be father- _son_ bonding?” he said. He was sitting at the kitchen island as he finished up his sandwich. “I don’t want to be a son today. Can I be a daughter?”

The Maitland-Deetzes had known something like this was coming. This was hardly the first time Maitland had left the house in a dress or wearing nail polish. He would’ve worn makeup if the family hadn’t said no makeup until he was 13. But this was the first time he’d actually identified as a woman. And he didn’t seem exclusively attracted to girl’s clothes. Sometimes, he was happy with jeans and a T-shirt.

“Of course you can, Maity,” Charles said. Barbara envied how easily he’d said it. At one of their parenting meetings, he’d attributed his attitude to Emily and Lydia’s influence. Barbara wondered how she would’ve handled this moment.

“Would you like one of your mommies to pick something out for you?” Delia asked.

Maitland hesitated. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again and delicately said, “I think you and me and Mommy Barbara have very different styles, Mommy.”

He ran up the stairs, humming something upbeat. Probably something Uncle Beetlejuice had taught him; Beetlejuice and Maitland loved listening to old musicals.

“Did he just call us unfashionable?” Barbara said, stunned. She’d thought she’d had a few more years before he started with that kind of attitude. “What’s wrong with a sundress?” She paused. “Wait, should I say he?”

“I’ll have a talk with him today,” Charles said.

“My little fire-sign child,” Delia said fondly. “Marching to the beat of his—or her, or their—own drum.”

Maitland came down in a beautiful lacey black dress with skull leggings and black flats.

“I’m ready,” he announced. “Let’s go, Daddy.”

Charles took him outside, out into a world where Barbara and Adam couldn’t follow. This Saturday, Delia and Barbara had planned a girl’s day where they drank wine and tried face masks. Wine didn’t get Barbara tipsy and a face mask wouldn’t make her skin smoother, but it was more an excuse to spend time with Delia than anything.

A private question or two from Delia a few months ago had made Barbara realize that she and Adam were always together. They were undead and married, but that didn’t mean they weren’t allowed to have separate experiences. Delia had kindly offered her time to Barbara. For the most part, Adam read a book or watched a nerdy TV show while Barbara and Delia hung out. It wasn’t much, but it was a foundation they could build on.

Barbara sipped her Chardonnay as she sat on the bed of Delia and Charles’s room. Delia and Charles had very different styles: the dark wood of the headboard and legs of the bed were Charles’s influence; the collection of masks from around the world was all Delia; the simple, practical lamps and rich wooden nightstands were Charles; and the crystals and faerie statuettes on those nightstands was Delia’s style.

“What if Maity changes pronouns and I slip up?” Barbara confessed. “I’ve been calling him ‘he’ for seven years. I don’t want to hurt him. Or them. Or she.”

“Just do your best,” Delia said. “Accept that you will slip up, apologize when it happens, and move on.”

“You’re right.” But she had the unsettling feeling that Charles and Delia were much more well suited to this than she was. Charles had had a very conventional upbringing, but Emily had exposed him to different people and ideas, and Delia had lived as a nomad through her 20s, meeting unconventional and interesting people. Barbara and Adam had lived such a cookie-cutter life, with friends just like them. They’d only known one LGBTQA2S+ couple before their deaths. Granted, Adam was bisexual, but he’d only come out after his and Barbara’s deaths.

_What if Adam and I are stuck in the past? We’re ghosts. What if we can’t grow or learn quickly enough and Maitland turns away from us? Look at Beetlejuice—what if all ghosts become obnoxious id-driven children if they stay in this world too long?_

She tried to be cheerful, but Delia must have sensed her mood. She held Barbara’s hand and said, “Don’t worry, my dear Barbara. Just listen to Maitland, which you do already, and follow his lead. You can do this.”

“Sorry—”

“No, no, no, dear, we don’t apologize for our feelings on girl’s day! We state them boldly, with purpose!”

“I was thinking ghost thoughts again. Let’s talk about something living. How about movies?” It was a shallow conversation starter, but Barbara missed being able to chat about pop culture with friends.

Charles and Maitland came back a few hours later with souvenirs from the zoo in Muldare. Barbara and Delia came down to greet them. Adam was already in the foyer. Barbara squeezed his hand as they came back together.

“Maitland has something to say,” Charles said.

Adam took out his phone to record the moment. At Charles’s cough and slight headshake, he put it back in his pocket.

Maitland looked around at the four of them. With a small frown, he asked, “Uncle BJ, could you come up here, please?”

Beetlejuice poofed into the room an instant later. “What now?” he grumbled. “If you ask me to help you with your homework again,” a noose appeared around his neck, “I’ll kill myself.”

There was a collective disappointed sigh from the adults. Barbara accepted that Beetlejuice meant well when it came to Maitland, but he wasn’t exactly the most enlightened person. According to Lydia, she’d had to show him 20 ace videos and draw him a flowchart to help him understand asexuality.

Charles cleared his throat. “Maity, perhaps we could discuss—”

“I think I’m a girl and I’m a boy,” Maitland said. “Daddy told me that sometimes people who feel like they’re both or neither use ‘they/them’ pronouns, not ‘he/him.’ Could we please try that? I want to see how it feels.”

“Of course we can, my sweet baby.” Delia pulled her son—her child—into a long, tight hug, kissing their forehead rapidly.

“Um, okay?” Maitland murmured, confused by their mother’s clinginess.

Barbara and Adam were always careful about touching the living. Why subject them to freezing cold skin if they didn’t have to? Barbara and Adam gave Maitland quicker hugs. “We love you so much, Maity,” Barbara murmured.

Barbara glanced nervously at Beetlejuice, but he floated above them, looking bored.

“Sure, whatever, kid. Anything else?”

“Could you become a Madagascar hissing cockroach, please?” Maitland said.

Beetlejuice became a huge cockroach, hissing as he skittered around. Maitland loved learning about animals, and they liked to test Beetlejuice from time to time. Beetlejuice wasn’t a great test taker, but he always became something whenever Maitland asked.

Maitland giggled. “Thank you, Uncle BJ.” He—they, she had to remember, they—picked their uncle up and started telling him about their trip to the zoo as they walked into the living room.

“It’s so easy for them,” Adam said, a little wistfully.

“Let’s hope it remains easy,” Charles said darkly. “We got a few glances on our walk through the zoo.” A tiny, angry part of Barbara wanted to pull a Beetlejuice and demand Charles name names. She kept it to herself. “Anyway, I’ll email the school tonight and let them know about Maitland’s pronoun change.”

It was Delia’s turn to make dinner tonight, giving Barbara and Adam time to relax. They slipped up to their bedroom for a cuddle. Barbara couldn’t help but reflect on the differences and similarities between men and women.

“I was just thinking,” Barbara said, her head on her husband’s shoulder, “about how gendered our relationship is. I’m chatty and social. You’re the more logical one. Did we become that naturally, or was it society’s gendered expectations shaping us?”

“To be fair, as a man, I’m also supposed to be brave and tough,” he kissed the top of her head, “but you’ve got me beat there.”

“You’re plenty brave, Adam.” She smirked. “I mean, you kissed Beetlejuice. I wasn’t brave enough to do that.”

He grimaced in embarrassment. “It was the only way I could think of to get his attention.”

Barbara couldn’t imagine being attracted to men but having an evil demon as the only time you’d kissed a man—and even then, only as part of a plan. That couldn’t be very fun. She let herself follow that train of thought for a while. Adam was generally better with silences than she was, and didn’t interrupt her.

After a while, she remarked, “I know you weren’t with men when you were alive. If you want, I could become a man and—”

“I love you just the way you are,” Adam said quickly.

“I’m not saying I identify as a man or it’s going to be a permanent change. But...now and then, when we make love, I could be a man. Just so you can see how it feels.” She’d never shapeshifted before. Some part of her thought of shapeshifting one of Beetlejuice’s main powers, and she didn’t want to follow in the demon’s ghostly footsteps.

But for Adam, she’d do anything. Besides, they should try to have new experiences.

“Thank you, Barbara,” he murmured, breathing into her ear. “I’ll think about it.” He cleared his throat and rested his fingers on her thigh. “Now, speaking of making love....”

“But dinner’s in a few minutes.” Her own protest didn’t stop her from untucking his green shirt and brushing her fingers over his stomach.

“We’ll be quick, then.”

Undead lovemaking would never be what it was. But it had its own perks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should hopefully refer to Maitland as they/them from now on, but they used he/him pronouns for the first draft of this fic. I might have missed a few he/hims. If you catch any, my apologies, and please let me know!


	14. Overparenting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having four parents of one child sometimes gets a bit awkward....

Beetlejuice and Lydia’s potential deal with him were the usual sources of tension in the Maitland-Deetz household. But the Maitland-Deetzes had tensions of their own.

One evening when Maitland was nine, Delia called a parenting meeting. She was wearing a necklace of lapis lazuli and aquamarine, used to improve communication and promote calmness, which was Barbara’s first hint that this might be an awkward conversation. Beetlejuice rarely showed up for parenting meetings, but this particular one found him reclining on thin air, hovering just above eye level with his hands laced behind his head.

The conversation moved from Lydia—who was working on getting her mortician’s license, despite Charles’s reservations—to Maitland.

“We received an email from Maitland’s teacher today,” Charles said. “It’s about their diorama.”

“Oh?” Adam said, surprised. “Did they get a bad grade?” Adam had helped Maitland with their diorama, putting his knowledge as an amateur historian and his love of making models to good use.

“They did, actually,” Charles said, a light frown between his brows.

Adam startled. “But that diorama was perfect!”

“Ms. Ahmed agreed. She called it award-winning, which isn’t a word that’s often used to describe a nine-year-old’s arts and crafts project.”

“Maitland did most of the work,” Adam protested. “They came up with the concept of our town hall as it was in the 1800s. They cut out most of the paper and glued it together.”

“I saw them do it,” Barbara added.

“I might have adjusted a few details,” Adam admitted. “They got the porch columns totally wrong, for example. I wanted the diorama to be as factual as possible. But the actual work was 80 per cent them. Email Ms. Ahmed back and tell her that.”

Thinking back, Barbara would’ve probably said 65 per cent, but she was on Adam’s side, so she nodded in agreement.

Delia said, “Ms. Ahmed says that well-meaning parents step in and help their children all the time. But Maitland has to learn to make mistakes.”

Charles inhaled deeply. “And, frankly, it might be better if you let them do more of their homework on their own. In fact, if you stepped back in general. Delia and I are worried you're developing into helicopter parents.”

Beetlejuice went from lying down in mid-air to sitting up, grinning as he ate from a popcorn-bucket full of beetles. “Oh no, he didn’t!”

Barbara was too stunned to reply. Her gaze went to Delia, expecting her to stand up for them. She didn’t. She didn’t even look apologetic.

Charles added, “I understand, of course. You’re new parents, and Maitland is your only child. It's natural you'd be devoted to them. And basing your life around your child is such an easy trap to fall into. Hell, Emily and I struggled with figuring out our boundaries with Lydia! And it goes without saying that Delia and I are grateful for everything you do for them and the rest of the family.”

Delia said, “But I’m sure there are some hobbies you two would just love to get back to. Barbara, everyone who comes into the practice compliments that painting you made for the new office.”

Barbara just managed not to flinch, remembering all the stupid projects she’d done to soothe her worries about having a child.

“The practice you got because we were looking after Maitland while you got your degree,” Barbara said.

“Ooooo, you want some ice for that burn, Delia?” Beetlejuice said, crunching another handful of beetles.

Delia’s lips pursed momentarily. She relaxed and kept her focus on Barbara and Adam as she said, “And as Charles said, we appreciate that. But the other day, Maitland mentioned to me that they wished they could go someplace and be really alone.”

“Maitland said that?” Adam said, eyes widening.

“They did.”

Dealing with Beetlejuice had made Barbara cynical; her first thought was, _Really?_ But it was an easy lie to prove or disprove. All she’d need to do was ask Maitland, and they’d tell her the truth. _And Delia wouldn’t lie to me. She’s a good person. Even if she’s being really awful right now._

In fact, Delia and Charles were looking at the ghosts with an infuriating pity.

Delia said, in a far-too-sweet voice, “I know this has been a shock, Maitlands. Why don’t we just step away and take a moment to breathe and recentre—”

“Oh, _breathe_?” Adam said coldly. “Not everyone in the room can, Delia!”

“Yeah, stop being racist against dead people!” Beetlejuice snapped, bug legs and wings dropping from his open mouth.

Barbara’s jaw was clenched, but she managed, “I agree that stepping away for a moment is a good idea.” She and Adam walked up the stairs to their room.

The sudden hiss of countless snakes, followed by Delia and Charles’s panicked shouts, made Barbara whirl around. Black and white striped snakes covered the Deetzes. Charles and Delia were frantically squirming and trying to throw the snakes off of them.

“Beetlejuice!” Adam snapped.

From the mouths of the many snakes came an echoing, “ ** _Don’t fuck with ghosts, breathers_**!” They vanished a moment later in a puff of green, sulphurous smoke.

“Sorry about that,” Barbara said.

“It’s...fine,” Charles said breathlessly. Delia was scanning the ground for any snake they might have missed.

Barbara and Adam were so busy pacing and trying to articulate their anger that they didn’t object when Beetlejuice floated into their bedroom after them.

“Can you believe them?” Barbara said. “‘Thanks so much for all the free babysitting, Maitlands. Now please go back in the attic like the rest of the family’s useless junk!’”

“Okay, I might have gone a bit overboard on the diorama. I’ll own that. But Maitland’s teacher said that sort of thing happens all the time! The Deetzes didn’t have to add the rest of that!”

Beetlejuice said, “Well, I know we can't murder 'em.... Hey, you should go on strike! Let the breathers raise their kid.”

“We can’t do that,” Barbara said. “Maity needs us.”

Beetlejuice floated over to their giant wall calendar. “Yeah, they’re really going to suffer without,” he peered at one of their more consistent entries, “homework time. Real traumatizing.”

“Charles and Delia stole the fun stuff,” Barbara said. “Their living parents can take them to the park or swimming lessons. We’re forced to do stuff at home with them.”

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes—then widened them. A lightbulb glowed over his head. “Okay, you guys love being their parents so much? We scare Chuck and Delia off and raise Maity ourselves! I get Maity to say my name three times, I get a power upgrade, and boom! We can take Maity out of the house and do breather stuff. Parent-teacher conferences, baseball games, all that shit.”

He poofed into a fancy black suit and tie, wearing top hat and monocle. “I’ll be respectable gentledemon, old chap!”

“And when Maitland asks where their living parents are...?” If Beetlejuice was going to come up with evil schemes, couldn’t they at least be smart ones?

“We’ll tell them their parents are on a year-long trip or something. They’re, what, eight? That’s a very trusting age. Ooo, or we’ll tell them their parents abandoned them because they were such a bad kid!” Beetlejuice paused and frowned. “Hey, as you guys get older, you ever catch yourself saying things your parents said to you when you were little?”

After an awkward silence, Adam patted Beetlejuice’s shoulder briefly. “We’re not lying to Maity, pal. Let’s just take that off the table.”

Barbara examined her and Adam’s giant wall calendar. Maitland’s name was on every day for the next four months.

The Maitlands glanced at each other, awkward and uncertain.

“Maybe we need Maitland a bit more than they need us,” Adam realized. “My parents didn’t really understand what being an introvert meant. Growing up with them could be challenging at times.” He glanced at Beetlejuice, who was staring into space with his arms crossed over his chest. “Which, I admit, wasn’t that challenging compared to other people’s childhoods. But I’d hate to think of Maity needing alone time and not getting it because we keep interrupting them.”

“We keep running out of space for all the videos we have of them,” Barbara added. “We could probably delete a few. And it’s not like Maity’s going to forget us if we don’t spend every day of the week with them.” Barbara hated that she sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

“You sure?” Beetlejuice asked. “I literally forget you guys exist all the time because you never do anything fun.”

“Well,” Adam said thoughtfully, “I have been meaning to get back to my model of the town....”

“I said fun, nerd. Shit like that is why I’m Maity’s favourite.”

“You two do have a lot of fun, Beetlejuice,” Barbara admitted. “But that’s because you’re both children. When Maitland matures, I like to think they’ll see the value in two hard-working, responsible, empathetic—”

Beetlejuice was in a bed floating in mid-air, sleeping, Zs floating above his head.

Barbara sighed. “Why do I try to have conversations with him? I know it never goes well. But I just keep engaging.”

“Because you’re kind, and you see the good in everyone.” Adam kissed her cheek.

“I could get back to painting. Maitland deserves two well-rounded individuals as parents.” And their hobbies would probably be more fun now that she and Adam weren’t using them to repress their worries and fears. “As well-rounded as we can get with the social life we have. Oh, speaking of, we should go see if Claire wants to hang out again!” She and Adam had spent a nice day at the graveyard with Claire a few months ago.

The bed Beetlejuice had been sleeping in burst into flame and burnt away to ash. He bared fangs, hissed, then managed, “I’m busy that day.”

“We haven’t even—”

“I’m busy! Go fight the sandworms yourself!”

“Maybe I will,” Barbara said, with much more confidence than she felt. “I’ve been working a lot on my ghostly powers lately.” She caught Adam’s eye; Adam cleared his throat, the corner of his mouth twitching in a suppressed smile.

Beetlejuice was too focused on his anger to notice any undercurrents. “No, you’re still baby ghosts. I can sense it. So don’t do anything stupid.”

They could bring up visiting Claire later. Adam and Barbara turned back to their wall calendar.

“Let’s make some space for us on here,” Barbara said.


	15. The Deal Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Maitland's 10th birthday, and the Maitland-Deetzes put on a last-ditch effort to stop Lydia and Beetlejuice's deal from going through.

As usual, Lydia showed up for her younger sibling’s birthday. But behind the presents and the cake, her parents were tense. It was Maitland’s 10th birthday, and Lydia had a choice to make.

They put on big, happy smiles for Maitland. Nobody wanted Lydia and Beetlejuice’s deal to affect their birthday. Maitland adored their vegan cookbook, telescope, and gardening kit. One of the wonderful things about Maitland was how interested they were in the world. Charles said most young children were like that. Barbara wondered when she’d stopped being so curious. When was the last time she’d looked through a telescope?

They let Maitland stay up until 10:00 PM to celebrate, then put them to bed. Barbara wanted to linger and gaze on her sweet, innocent Maitland rather than deal with her prickly, 27-year-old daughter, but she made herself leave their bedroom when everyone else did.

Her hand searched for Adam’s and found his almost immediately. He smiled at her, but he was a worrier, and the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

She kissed his cheek. “It’ll be fine,” she murmured to him as she walked down the stairs. “She’s a mature young woman who had a bad idea when she was 17. She’s not going to go through with it.”

“Thanks,” he whispered back.

Lydia was washing the dishes in the sink in an attempt to be green. She was so thoughtful about the world. Barbara would’ve just run the dishwasher without thinking about it. To her surprise, Beetlejuice was drying the dishes. It was strange to see him being a productive member of the family. But then, he’d been fawning over Lydia all night.

“Soooo, Lyds,” Beetlejuice said, “that seemed like the birthday party of a kid who definitely wasn’t traumatized.”

“Time and place, psycho,” Lydia answered. She glanced over her shoulder at Barbara, Adam, Charles and Delia, making the longest eye contact with her father. “Not in the kitchen. We’ve gotta speak someplace special.”

Barbara stepped toward her, reaching out and touching her shoulder. When was the last time she’d touched Lydia or hugged her? She’d been so wrapped up with Maitland these past 10 years. Had they done enough?

Lydia smiled her usual worldly half-smile. She’d been so vulnerable and serious when Barbara and Adam had met her. But she’d built her walls up since then.

“This was such a fun day,” Barbara said. “Look at how good things are now.” She nodded at Beetlejuice. “Things are going so well for the family.”

“The world’s more than just this house, Barbara,” Lydia said, but so gently the words didn’t sting much.

“Lydia,” Adam said, “you can’t still be considering this, can you? You’re doing so much to change the world. Why add him to your plate?”

Lydia and her anarcho-communist friends had focused on trying to change laws on a local level, giving unions more power and workers more rights. She did pro bono work with charities, helping them with photography and their web presence. She was even volunteering at a call centre for suicidal teens. Why couldn’t that be enough?

Perhaps it wasn’t as fun as making the people in power pay for their misdeeds. But it was arguably more useful. Barbara wished she could see that.

“Your plan isn’t going to enact any of the changes you hope to see in the world,” Charles added. “It’s just petty revenge. A child’s tantrum. You’re better than that, Lydia.”

“And think of the toll it will take on your spirit, darling.” Delia stepped closer to Lydia, but didn’t touch her. “Sending a demon to terrorize people will leave its mark on your soul. The world doesn’t need those kind of vibes.”

“Just think about it logically,” Adam said. “So, some people will quit their jobs in which they do horrible things. People will step in to fill the positions they leave. Maybe those people will be worse. What’s the end goal, here? What criteria are you even using to decide who gets a visit from a demon?”

Lydia chuckled. “I can email you the criteria, Adam. I’ve put a lot of thought into it.”

Beetlejuice fist-pumped the air, dropping the dish he was drying in his enthusiasm. As it shattered on the floor, he floated toward the ceiling, blowing a black-and-white striped party horn that became a snake’s tongue as it unfurled.

Barbara dropped her hand from Lydia’s shoulder. “No. You can’t be serious. That’s not the Lydia I know.”

Lydia’s smile dropped and, for a moment, she was the moody teenager again. “Maybe you saw what you wanted to see, then. I’m tired of watching good people suffer while evil people escape judgement. It’s time for a little payback.”

“ ** _Yes..._** ” Beetlejuice hissed. He was all pointed teeth and neon green eyes and a Joker-ish grin too big for a human mouth.

Lydia rolled her eyes at him. “Give it a rest, buddy.”

Softly, Charles said, “What about Emily, Lydia? Would she want you to do this?” At the emergency parenting meeting last night, they’d agreed Charles should only play the Emily card as a last resort.

This didn’t cause the moment of realization they’d hoped. Lydia just shrugged, her expression distant. “I’ll never know. But when I get to the Netherworld, I hope I can explain it to her.”

“The Netherworld?” Beetlejuice frowned anxiously. “C’mon, kid, that place is shit. Stay topside with me! I’ll make sure no sandworms bother us.” His gaze went far away, and he giggled. “We’ll haunt so many things! It’ll be awesome!”

She put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “My mom’s there, Beej. Anyway, hopefully that’s not a decision I have to make anytime soon. Come on, psycho. Let’s have a chat on the roof.”

“Hey, that’s where we first met!”

“Yes, dummy, it is.” Lydia ruffled his spikey green hair.

The Maitlands and the Deetzes stood in their kitchen, glancing at each other and watching Lydia lead the floating Beetlejuice upstairs.

“I...suppose there is another option,” Delia said slowly. “We cut her out of our lives. She might relent, if that’s the price.” Her arms were crossed over her stomach, and even as she spoke she was shaking her head unconsciously.

They probably should do that. What better way to show that Lydia’s turn to evil had consequences?

Barbara was too ashamed of herself to speak louder than a whisper. “I...I can’t, Delia.”

Adam ran his hands through his hair. “She was the reason we didn’t leave for the Netherworld. I can’t just walk away. She means too much to me and Barbara. And maybe if we keep trying to show her a better way.... Maybe she’ll see the light.”

 _I’m not strong enough._ Barbara’s gaze dropped to her shoes. _I thought I was getting tougher, but I was wrong._

Charles and Delia could turn their backs on Lydia with fewer repercussions. They were living, with their own friends and their own connections to the world. They weren’t stuck interacting with the same six people every day for the rest of eternity.

“She’s all I have left of Emily, Delia.” Charles’s voice quivered. It was the first time Barbara had seen him so close to tears.

Delia sighed. “I don’t know if I can, either. Perhaps it won’t be so bad. Maybe that plan of hers won’t work, and she’ll abandon it.”

“Or Beetlejuice will get bored of it,” Barbara added. She winced as soon as she’d said it. Beetlejuice was easily bored of mundane, breather experiences. He was very dedicated to scaring. 

Nobody had anything else to say.

A few minutes later, neon green fireworks lit up the night sky. Suddenly, a large black form burst from the roof and hung in front of the full moon.

“What in the world...?!” Charles said, running out the front door.

Barbara couldn’t do much more than poke her head out of the house. It took her a few moments to realize what she was seeing: Beetlejuice was carrying Lydia bridal-style and floating them far up in the air. He was singing what she eventually recognized as the chorus of _Wicked_ ’s “Defying Gravity.” The two friends floated for a few moments, silhouetted against the silver moon—long enough for a few sandworms to appear—before Beetlejuice zipped back down with Lydia.

Barbara and Adam went up to the attic just to make sure Lydia was all right. But Beetlejuice set her down on the roof with surprising gentleness. She was windswept but unharmed. She tucked some flyaway strands of hair behind her ears.

“Thanks, pal,” she said, punching him on the shoulder.

“Anytime, boss!” He beamed at Lydia, looking happier than Barbara had ever seen him.

“So...he’s back?” Barbara asked.

“Yeah.” Lydia looked her and Adam over, expression serious. Her voice quivered; it was the first sign of pain they’d seen all evening. “Not everyone’s as good as the two of you. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

But the wall went back up again when she playfully shoved Beetlejuice. “And don’t worry—he won’t murder anyone. He knows what’ll happen if he starts down that path.”

“I hope you can live with what comes next,” Adam said solemnly.

“Me too.” She sounded like she meant it.

There didn’t seem to be anything else to say. Lydia left the attic. Barbara felt dirty and disgusting. Whatever happened next, she and Adam were complicit in it. Beetlejuice had said he wouldn't murder, but what if someone died by accident? Or what if Beetlejuice simply started up his old bad habits? There were so many ways Lydia's stupid plan could go wrong.

The sound of an engine turning over and failing to start made her glance at Beetlejuice. He was clearly thinking hard about something—steam was wafting from his ears.

 _Don’t ask. He ruins everything._ But Barbara couldn’t help but say, “What’s up, buddy?” She found she didn’t have many hard feelings toward Beetlejuice. He was an attack dog; Lydia was the one holding his leash. Why get mad at a dog for biting who its owner commanded it to bite?

Beetlejuice blinked a few times, shaking his head, as if he’d forgotten that she and Adam were in the room. He cleared his throat and tugged at his collar, not meeting their gazes. It took her a few moments to place the expression on his face, since she’d never seen it before. _He’s uncertain._ Beetlejuice was usually so full of confidence, earned or not.

Beetlejuice cleared his throat, looking between her and Adam. “Uh, hey, Maitlands—Lyds and I should bang, right?”


	16. Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beetlejuice's unexpected feelings present Barbara and Adam with a moral dilemma.

Barbara summoned the _Handbook for the Recently Deceased_. It opened automatically to the banishing spell Beetlejuice had taught them years ago. Adam’s hand on her wrist stopped her as Beetlejuice ducked behind Adam.

“Okay,” Adam said, standing between her and Beetlejuice. “Why don’t we just ask a few questions first?”

“You met her when she was 15, you pervert!” Barbara snapped.

“I didn’t wanna bang her back then! And she ain’t 15 anymore, Babs!”

Barbara started on the first line of the spell. “Poltergeist—”

“Woah! Woah woah WOAH!” Beetlejuice became a tiny beetle on her husband’s shoulder. “Adaaaaaam! Save me!”

“Wait, Barbara. Please?”

Sighing, Barbara closed the _Handbook_. “I just think some time alone to reflect on his horrible, disgusting feelings would be good for him.”

Adam picked the beetle off his shoulder and held it gently in the palm of his hand. “Where’s this coming from, buddy?”

Beetlejuice poofed back to his regular shape, hovering in mid-air. “Well, when I scooped her up and flew her into the sky, she talked about my first job. It sounds awesome! Finally, I get to use my bio-exorcism skills! And for kinda-sorta good, which is important to Lyds.

“And then as she kept talking about some other bullshit, but I couldn’t stop looking at her hair in the moonlight. And I thought ‘I should kiss her!’ but—” he frowned “—I couldn’t move. Which is weird.” His body parts floated apart. His disembodied mouth said, “I usually have excellent control over my body.” He snapped back together a moment later. “So, Lyds and I should bang.”

“You remember she’s asexual, right, pal?” Adam asked.

“Pfffbbbt. Asexual doesn’t mean you never have sex. It just means you don’t feel sexual attraction. I figured if I got down on my knees and begged her enough, she’d eventually say yes.”

Barbara winced.

“Plus, it’s a cute little callback to how we met, when I begged her to say my name three times.” The colours of his skin, hair, and suit were sliding toward pink. She’d never seen that colour on him before. “Heh.” He grinned. “Bet she’d like me on my knees.”

Barbara wrinkled her nose. Why did he have to make everything so disgusting? “Beetlejuice, absolutely do not—”

“Barbara,” said a thoughtful-looking Adam, “can we speak together privately for a moment?”

They left Beetlejuice hovering, eyeing them curiously. Adam directed her to their bedroom.

When they were alone, he said, “I think Beetlejuice just handed us an opportunity to stop Lydia’s evil plan.”

Barbara picked up what he was saying right away. “Oh. Because begging your boss for sex is a good way to get fired. Well, that’ll be a learning experience for him.”

“Exactly.”

“And hopefully not too awful for Lydia.” Barbara frowned. “She’ll be fine, right?”

“She’s always been able to put him in his place.”

“Hmm. Maybe too good. She might just laugh the whole thing off.”

“She might. But we’ve never seen a Beetlejuice in love before. I can only imagine he’d be even more obnoxious than when he’s trying to get laid. And Lydia’s never shown any romantic interest in him, so it’s not like they’ll fall in love.”

Barbara stared at him. “Beetlejuice is in _what_?!”

“We’ve never seen him go pink before. What else could pink mean?”

Adam acted like this was obvious. Barbara had to re-evaluate the entire situation. It was so easy to see Beetlejuice as a man-child that Barbara couldn’t imagine him feeling love. _But he does. Oh, he doesn’t express it like me and Adam, but he loves Maitland. He’s been friends with Lydia for years. And he was human at one point. Why wouldn’t he want love?_

“So, I propose we just don’t do anything,” Adam continued. “We sit back and watch the train wreck unfold.”

“But Lydia’s practically our daughter. Ugh. Should we subject her to Beetlejuice?”

“We tried for years to convince her not to say his name three times. She didn’t listen. If she wants the demon at the height of his powers, well, she gets to deal with him. And who knows? Maybe I’m wrong and Beetlejuice is actually a wonderful boyfriend. Maybe Lydia falls in love with him and it’s the start of a beautiful relationship. But I don’t think so.” He looked frustrated. “Why can’t we get a bit devious? Everyone else is.”

Barbara considered it.

“When they go low, we have to go high,” Barbara said sadly.

Adam heaved a long sigh. “Has that ever worked for anyone?”

“It’d make me feel better. And I think it’d make you feel better, too. I know it’s tempting, but how could we look Lydia in the eye knowing that we encouraged—or at least didn’t stop—Beetlejuice’s feelings?”

Adam held her gaze for a moment, his lips pursed. A few moments later, he nodded. “Okay. Then we’ll convince him not to try.”

Adam and Barbara walked back up to the attic to see Beetlejuice pink and staring at the moon.

“Buddy?” Adam asked.

“Yeah?”

“First of all, never beg anyone for sex. It’s coercive and gross. Secondly, we really don’t think you should ask Lydia for sex or a relationship at all.”

"A relationship?! Come the fuck on! As if! Pshhh! You guys are idiots." But the pink didn't go away.

“Come on,” Barbara said lightly, “you don’t want some breather ball and chain, right?”

“Well, no....” He started fiddling with his tie. “But Lyds wouldn’t be a ball and chain. She thinks I’m great.” The pink started coming back in. “We’re friends. That's a great start to any, um, sexual relationship. And we have so much fun together! One time, I made her laugh ‘til she pissed herself. She tried to pretend she didn’t, but she so did.”

 _Just think of him as a friend._ “Well, relationships are about more than having fun.”

“Clearly, because you’re the most boring people on the planet and somehow you’re still together.”

“They’re about commitment. Putting someone else’s needs before your own.” Beetlejuice flinched; the pink started retreating. “Being there for someone whenever they need you, body and soul.” Beetlejuice’s expression grew much more uncertain. “And...honestly, relationships are all about the mundane. They’re about paying bills.” The demon gagged. “Hearing them tell the same story at parties again and again.” He projectile vomited a long, green stream onto the floor. “Long, long, long conversations about your feelings.”

“Argh! Enough, enough! You guys make it sound awful!”

“You want this job to go well, right?” Adam asked. “Lydia’s technically your boss. Bosses and employees shouldn’t sleep together or be in romantic relationships. It just opens up too many complications.”

“Uh, Charles and Delia, anyone?”

“And they’ve both acknowledged that wasn’t exactly an ideal start to their relationship.” Lydia still needled the two of them about it when she could. Would she still be able to tease and joke with her parents now? It felt like their relationship had fundamentally shifted.

“It’s possible that Lydia might want cool off your friendship if she learns about your feelings,” Barbara said. She felt kind of silly explaining something so basic, but she wasn’t sure how much experience Beetlejuice had with relationships. All he ever talked about was sexual escapades.

Beetlejuice recoiled, the pink vanishing from him. He looked so anxious that Barbara’s heart hurt. “What?! Why?”

She couldn’t help but reach out to him, her fingers resting on his lower arm. “If she didn’t feel the same way, then she might want to give you some space. It might be too awkward for her to keep seeing you as much as she does now.”

Beetlejuice shook his head. “Fuck, emotions are just—fucking fuck! No way, nope nope nope, not gonna risk that.” The pink drained out of him. “Ugh—did I actually say ‘her hair in the moonlight’? Who the fuck am I, Roger from _Rent_? I don’t do mushy shit. I’m a demon! And Lyds clearly just showed that’s exactly what she needs me to be.”

He shot finger guns at them. “Knew I could count on you losers for the most boring, low-conflict answer. But, hey, a little boring will be good for me! This job is gonna be fun enough to make up for it!

“‘Sides, the tags on this fic aren’t Beetlejuice/Lydia, so why fight that?” He paused. “I mean, unless the fic went in a different direction and the author didn’t update the tags.... But why would anyone do that? And Beetlejuice/Lydia is so controversial! Your readership would plummet! Who would be stupid enough to hint at not fulfilling the fic’s main pairing?! A real dumbfuck, that’s who.”

Adam squeezed his shoulder. “I know it sucks to have unrequited feelings. Treat yourself kindly, pal.”

“Maybe invite the clones over,” Barbara added. “Have your regular Friday night orgy. As long as you ask for consent,” she couldn’t help but add.

“I told you guys—the clones are lovable idiots who feel what I’m feeling when I summon them. I need ‘em for a scare? Boom, they’re ready to scare! I need ‘em for a musical number? Get ready for a dance break!” He did a quick soft-shoe, somehow managing to tap dance in mid-air. “I need ‘em for an orgy—”

“We get it.”

“Do you though? Because if you need orgy experience....”

“Nope.” If the demon was already hitting on them, how deep could his feelings for Lydia be?

Beetlejuice poofed out of the attic.

“Oh, God,” Adam murmured. “I just had a vision of a clone waiting room. What if all the Beetlejuice clones are just sitting there, waiting for their one shot at the living world, and they have to do whatever their creator wants. Can the clones even consent?”

Barbara patted his arm. “Maybe just don’t think too hard about it. Besides, maybe we’ll be able to create clones someday. We can ask them then.”

A chill of foreboding crept down Barbara’s spine as she and Adam went to bed that night. Something horrible was going to come of this, she just knew it.


	17. The Plan & The Crush: The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stories about Beetlejuice's new job and his unfortunate crush.

Lydia’s evil plan was set in motion.

Barbara and Adam didn’t want to hear anything about it, and Lydia obliged. Beetlejuice would talk about it all day if he could, but the Maitlands learned to cut him off quickly by changing the subject to something boring.

The adults took Maitland aside and let them know about it. The family sat down in the living room. Maitland's hands were clasped in their lap and they kept scanning everyone’s faces. A living room meeting was serious business.

Charles started. “If you notice your uncle is more powerful than he was before, that’s because your sister said his name three times.”

Maitland looked surprised. “Oh. But that’s bad. Why would Lydia do something bad?”

Delia gave her child a mug of calming chamomile tea and wrapped her arm around their shoulders. Maitland shifted away; Delia noticed and stopped cuddling. At 10, Maitland wasn’t as interested in hugs and cuddles as they used to be. “Sometimes, grownups do things that are bad because they’re hurting, and they think the way to stop hurting is to hurt other people.”

“That makes no sense,” Maitland pointed out. “Then everyone’s hurt.”

“You’re right,” Barbara said. “You’re _so_ right, sweetie. But Lydia doesn’t feel the same way. She thinks she’s using Beetlejuice to stop bad people from doing bad things, but really she’s just hurting herself.”

Maitland began picking anxiously at their nail polish, their dark red hair falling over their face. Quietly, they asked, “Are you fighting with Lydia?”

“We disagree about what she’s doing and why she’s doing it,” Adam said. “But she’s still part of this family. We’ve decided that we’ll try to show Lydia there’s a better path. It isn’t up to her to punish people; it’s up to the system of law to punish people.”

Maitland looked up sharply. “When?”

“I’m sorry?”

“When did you decide this?”

“A few days ago, when it happened.” Bless Adam for not mentioning that it had been on Maitland’s birthday.

Maitland frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me all this _before_ it happened?”

“Maitland,” Charles said, “you’re a child. It isn’t up to you—”

“But I could’ve helped! Lydia is my sister and Beetlejuice is my uncle. And—and Uncle always says we’re best friends. I could’ve talked him out of it. But you didn’t even let me try.” Their lips parted and their eyes widened. “You lied,” they whispered. “You all lied me to me!”

Barbara hadn’t even considered that point of view. She glanced anxiously at Adam. How could she get a child to understand a situation this complex?

“We were trying to protect you,” Delia said.

“I don’t want protection.”

“You’re our child,” Charles said sternly, a frown gathering between his brows. “End of discussion.”

“Then I don’t want to be a child,” Maitland said coldly. They stormed off, slamming the door to their room.

It was the first of many conversations they’d have with Maitland about Beetlejuice’s new job.

Maitland was quick to learn Beetlejuice and Lydia’s sides, as well. “Lydia told me that there are people the law doesn’t help. Laws only benefit the majority and the powerful, not the minority who are most in need of protection. So why shouldn’t she punish the people who are taking from the needy and oppressed? And Uncle Beetlejuice says he’s like Robin Hood. He became a fox with a hat, like the movie!”

For a while, almost every conversation with Maitland was a moral dilemma involving phrases like “unjust system of oppression,” “all cops are bad,” and “late-stage capitalist hellscape.” It was all Barbara could do to keep up. It didn’t help that a lot of the questions split the Maitland-Deetzes: Charles was Republican-leaning, and supported the death penalty and gun ownership with strong background checks; the Maitlands were Democrats that Lydia had once derogatorily called “centrists”; and Delia had never voted and tried to remain apolitical.

A lot of Maitland’s questions made her keenly aware of her privilege: she’d had middle-class parents, she was white, conventionally attractive, cisgendered and straight.

“I could have volunteered more,” she admitted to Adam one night. “I could’ve done so much more to help people who don’t have what we have. Had, I mean. When we were alive.”

“I know how you feel.”

All Maitland’s parents could do was explain their views to them and let them draw their own conclusions about Beetlejuice’s new job. Barbara hoped they’d see things her way, but she couldn’t force it on them.

* * *

A week after that awkward conversation with Beetlejuice about his feelings for Lydia, Barbara checked in with him. He’d hung out with Lydia a few times since then. She caught him watching of horror movie; she wasn’t brave enough to look at the screen and see the blood, guts and jump scares.

When she asked about his crush, he looked at her questioningly, like he couldn’t remember what she was talking about. “Huh? Oh, yeah. That. Don’t worry, Babs.” He suddenly wore a white shirt, black slacks and a black tie properly done up. “I’ve been turning it off like a light switch, babe.”

“Adam and I didn’t say ‘turn it off.’ We just said don’t act on it and try to work through it. Maybe...there’s someone else for you out there?” Guilt sat heavily and uncomfortably in her stomach. How could she inflict Beetlejuice on some unsuspecting living person? And what kind of living person would want him? _The crazy type._

"Someone else out there." Beetlejuice stared at her with raised eyebrows, then looked out into the middle distance where he sometimes pretended he had an audience, a bit like Jim Halpert looking at the camera on _The Office_. “Wonder who those other people could be, Babs.”

Barbara sighed. “I meant romantically. Not as a threesome with me and Adam.”

Beetlejuice eyed her wolfishly. “You know, I never actually said threesome.” His teeth grew pointed. “But I _love_ that your mind went there.”

“Well, I’m never going to cheat on my husband, so logically that would be the only way.... But it’s never going to happen. Forget I said anything.”

“Who the fuck else is there other than you guys? Chuck hates me. Delia’s a total MILF, but she’s Chuck’s girl. And as for meeting some breather....”

Suddenly, he poofed beside her, brandishing a smart phone. “Which pics would work on my dating profile?” The photos were Beetlejuice at his most demonic: lit with neon green light, surrounded by beetles, rats and snakes; fanged and green-eyed, frothing at the mouth as he snarled at the camera; surrounded by pentagrams, the fanged and horned skulls of unknown creatures, with blood on his hands.

Assuming the photos were going to get both gorier and smuttier, Barbara looked away.

He snickered. “Freaking you out is way too easy, babe.”

“Probably. But, well, someone on a goth forum somewhere would probably eat this up.” _Or maybe someone on the dark ‘net. Ugh._

He ran his hand through his hair. A spider skittered from his scalp to his sleeve. “There’s being goth and then there’s dating an undead demon. Doesn’t really mean they’re the same. And,” he shrugged, making a big deal out of vanishing the phone he’d manifested, “you know I’m not the best with people. Or first impressions. Or stupid breather feelings.”

She patted his shoulder. “I know. But I also know it’s painful, feeling what you do and having to see Lydia for your job. I just wanted to say that I’m proud of you.” Beetlejuice stared at her, surprised then wary. “For forcing yourself not to go after what you want. For being mature.”

“Mature?! Bitch, you take that back!”

She didn’t have the energy to police his language. “Keep that up, and someday you might be ready for a mature, fulfilling relationship with someone. Someone who is definitely not Lydia. You met her when she was 15. There are so many people in the world you didn’t meet when they were children!”

Beetlejuice crossed his arms over his chest. “I get it, Jesus!” A chainsaw revving on-screen brought his attention back to the movie. “Aw, shit! Did you see that?!”

Barbara left him to his movie. But her anxious feeling didn’t go away.

* * *

The worst thing about the plan was that the world didn’t end. Beetlejuice wasn’t around as much, which made life more pleasant. When Beetlejuice was around, there were a lot more pranks, inappropriate language and insults. When Beetlejuice wasn’t at Lydia’s, he was in the basement watching horror movies.

“Not that I need inspiration!” he was quick to say. “But even a pro’s gotta keep up with their genre.”

Barbara hated to admit it, but it was satisfying watching the head of the NRA run screaming out of a press conference, or reading the tweets of a right-wing Twitter account that suddenly started posting messages of tolerance and acceptance, or hearing that the RNC got shut down because of a “gas leak.”

The longer they lived with Lydia’s evil plan, the easier it was to accept it.

* * *

Beetlejuice didn’t seem to have experience not reacting, immediately and explosively, to his emotions. He’d need help with that. But the more time he spent with Lydia, the less time he spent with Barbara and Adam. They couldn’t influence him as much as they would’ve liked.

And spending lots of time with someone wasn’t usually something that led to a crush disappearing.

They tried to catch Beetlejuice when he got off shift to see if he was pink, but the few times the managed it, he was cackling maniacally.

Four months into Beetlejuice’s new job, and Maitland was helping with dinner. Over a hissing pan of peppers and onions for vegan stir fry, they said, “I’m not certain that Uncle Beetlejuice is enjoying his job.”

Even at 10 years old, Maitland never said anything thoughtlessly. They were in boy mode today, with a black jeans and white T-shirt, their long hair tied up in a bun.

“What makes you think that?” Barbara asked as she chopped green beans.

“After his shift last night, I saw him on the roof staring up at the full moon. I checked on him in an hour, and he hadn’t moved. I had no idea Uncle could stay still for a whole hour.”

“Was he pink?” Adam asked.

“He was, actually. Do you know what pink means?”

Adam and Barbara shared a dark look. “We have an idea.”

“Maity, has your uncle ever mentioned anything about romance to you?”

“His offhand comments tend toward the carnal, not the amorous.” Maitland was going through a phase where they loved using big words.

“How carnal?” What had he been teaching her sweet baby?

“Nothing too outré, Mother. ‘Scared this guy with an ass so tight you could bounce a quarter off it!’ for one.” Maitland did a very good Beetlejuice impression. “I’ve heard worse at my institute of learning. Please don’t fret.” They took the pan off the element and covered it. “You know, I did notice him watching a romantic comedy the other day. He snapped at me to leave, but I know what I saw. Is he interested in someone?”

“We’re wondering the same thing,” Barbara said. Beetlejuice hadn’t explicitly told them to keep his feelings for Lydia a secret, but some things she wasn’t about to tell a 10-year-old child.

They looked thoughtful. “I didn’t think breathers interested him, or that he interacted with any regularly. But the world is vast.” They frowned suddenly. “He’s probably told Lydia, of course.”

Beetlejuice’s job had caused a rift between him and Maitland, but not for the reasons the Maitland-Deetzes had hoped. Maitland was jealous that their sister and uncle spent so much time together. No longer could Maitland speak Beetlejuice’s name and have Beetlejuice poof into the room a second later. Their parents had been using this rift to push Maitland to make some friends at school, so far without success.

Maitland helped make the rest of dinner in sullen silence.

Their words made Barbara consider something new: did Lydia know about Beetlejuice’s feelings? He wasn’t exactly subtle.

That evening, Barbara and Adam Facetimed Lydia. She was relaxing on her couch, wrapped up in a black blanket with white cobwebs on it.

After a few minutes of small talk, Adam asked, “We’ve barely seen our demon these days. Is he busy with work?”

“Not all the time. Yesterday, he possessed a corpse yesterday and started a musical number.” Lydia rolled her eyes. It figured that Beetlejuice would enjoy Lydia’s job as a mortician. “I keep telling him he’s messing with my work, but he never listens. You know Beej.”

“But you haven’t noticed him acting differently?”

“He’s predictably unpredictable. Sometimes I get a jump scare; sometimes Beetle-dog is shedding in my laundry basket. Should I have noticed anything different?”

Adam wasn’t the best at confrontations, so Barbara took over. “Lydia, we’re concerned that Beetlejuice might have a bit of a crush on you.”

Lydia laughed. She was still smiling when she said, “Wow. You’re getting ruthless, Barbara. I gotta tell Beej about this and let him know he’s rubbing off on you two.”

“Ruthless?”

“And transparent.”

Barbara figured it out. “You think I’m lying.”

“I think you’ll do anything to get me to fire Beetlejuice. Nice try, but it’s not going to happen. I’m going to do the most good I can before the Netherworld takes me. I’m sorry that you don’t see it that way.”

She ended the call pretty quickly after that.

They tried to pin down Beetlejuice, but he was wrigglier than usual. When they finally got him alone and dropped a reminder or two about how horrible relationships could be, he flapped his hands at them dismissively.

“Love these reminders of how single I am! These talks are always so fun for me.”

That was as far as they got before he poofed away.

“Something awful is going to happen,” Barbara told Adam. “I don’t know when, but it’s going to happen.”

* * *

Not everything Beetlejuice and Lydia did together was evil.

One evening, Beetlejuice came home from his shift early. The living were still awake and the Maitland-Deetzes were playing _Monopoly_ , which Charles was winning.

“Is everything all right, Uncle?” Maitland asked.

“I didn’t get to scare anyone. Ugh! Lyds is the worst boss ever!”

“What happened?”

“She took a volunteering shift at the teen suicide hotline tonight. Some kid calls in, he’s freaking out and about to jump off a bridge, and she figures out which bridge and sends me to stop him. Jesus Christ! I know I don’t officially have a job description, but I’m pretty sure that ain’t in it!”

“Oh, God, that poor boy!” Delia said. “What happened?”

“To the kid? Eh, Lyds talked to him while I hung out in stealth mode.” He huffed. “I wanted to appear and tell him how shitty the Netherworld is or send him a vision of his own funeral. But she worried I’d psychologically scar him or some shit. So all I did was sit around like some asshole and punch a sandworm or two while Lyds yapped to him on the phone and the kid cried. Blech. The cops came and helped him down, and Lyds told me to take the night off.

“I thought of leaving him with a jump scare, but since he was about to jump off a bridge.... Eh, didn’t seem appropriate.”

The family took a few moments to digest the news. Barbara was impressed by the fact that Beetlejuice had some ability to understand what was appropriate and what wasn’t. But wasn’t it a breach of the young man’s privacy for Lydia to send Beetlejuice? _Then again, desperate times...._

“Wow, Uncle. You’re a hero.”

“Huh?” He suddenly seemed to see the situation from a living person’s point of view. “I mean...yes.” He thrust his chest forward, his suit becoming a black-and-white Superman suit, with a B in place of the S. “That’s exactly what I am.” His hair and cape blew in a nonexistent breeze.

“Maybe you could become a superhero and stop bad guys.”

“Y’know, Lyds brought that up. She said she didn’t want to put me into the path of temptation more than she already is. She’s afraid seeing people committing crimes will make me want to do ‘em. Heh, she’s so right. That girl really gets me.” He beamed at the thought—a little too brightly for Barbara’s comfort.

“And imagine having to call the cops on my coke dealer,” he joked. “That’d be so awkward!”

At least Barbara hoped it was a joke.

 _Some good came out of evil. That's...something._ Now if only it could make up for all the evil things Beetlejuice was doing.


	18. The Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dinner party in which Beetlejuice fails to read the room and Barbara manages not to say 'I told you so.'

Almost five months after the start of Beetlejuice's new job, the Maitland-Deetz household was all together. Lydia had come in from her apartment in Albany to visit the family. Barbara and Adam ate their usual small meal. Weirdly, Beetlejuice wasn’t gobbling down his food as usual.

“Before Maity starts school again,” Lydia said, “I want to take them on a ghost hunting road trip—purely by public transportation, of course. I don’t want to destroy the planet just for fun.” She looked at Beetlejuice as she said, “This trip isn’t to replace the ghostly friends we already have.” When he didn’t seem to be listening, she went on. “We just want to see what’s out there.”

“The three of you cannot be the only ghosts in the existence,” Maitland said. They were dressed in an old-fashioned black suit. They would’ve looked like a Victorian gentleman if not for their bird-skull necklace, black skull earrings, and matte black lipstick. “Mayhap we can find some and bring you all together?”

“Like an undead meetup group,” Lydia said.

Adam and Barbara shared an excited glance. Wistfully, Adam said, “It would be nice to meet some new people.” He hadn’t loved strangers when he was alive, but 10 years with only a few people able to see you seemed to have changed his mind.

Delia looked thoughtful. “But I thought ghosts can only appear near where they were buried?”

“The plan might involve some grave robbing,” Lydia said casually.

Charles startled, setting down his wine glass. “That’s illegal.”

“I am only a minor,” Maitland said casually. “I won’t see the inside of a jail cell.”

“And that’s if these theoretical ghosts want to come all the way to Connecticut,” Lydia said. “They might be perfectly happy haunting where they are. We’re not going to commit any crimes on our first trip.”

“Or ever...?” Delia said hopefully.

Lydia chuckled. “No promises.”

“Sounds like a great idea, Lyds,” Beetlejuice said. “Hey, maybe I can come with!”

“Mm, we wouldn't be staying in houses. Can you handle that many sandworms, pal?”

Beetlejuice gave a strained chuckle Barbara had never heard from him. “Well, um, maybe there’s a loophole.” A moth fluttered out of his hair. Unusually, he plucked the insect out of the air and hid it back in his hair. He didn’t usually care what the random bugs he emitted did.

Barbara frowned. She’d read the _Handbook for the Recently Deceased_ from cover to cover. There wasn’t anything about defeating sandworms in it. “What sort of loophole?”

Beetlejuice stood. He looked around the table, grinning, bouncing on the heels of his feet. “Aw, I was gonna do this in private, but I can’t wait!”

He shook out his hands, which were shaking, Barbara noticed with alarm. His focus was entirely on Lydia.

“So, Lyds. Things were pretty crazy when we met, right? So many awful, awkward things were said and done. Mostly by me. But in the years since, we’ve grown up, learned more about each other, caused so much beautiful **_chaos_** together.” His teeth grew pointy and his eyes flashed neon green. He cleared his throat and went back to normal. “I think we make a great team. And we always have. And we always will.”

_Oh no. A sandworm loophole would be Beetlejuice marrying the person who summoned him and becoming alive again! No no no no no...._

Barbara shot Adam a panicked look, and he shrugged helplessly in reply.

“Beetlejuice, please, sit down...” Barbara whispered.

Charles’s jaw muscle was bulging as he grit his teeth, his face blazing with anger. Delia was leaning forward, lips parted as if to speak. Maitland stared in wide-eyed surprise.

Beetlejuice was completely oblivious to anyone but Lydia, who was frozen with her fork half-raised to her mouth. “Because you’re my soul mate, baby. And, hey, you’re 27. That’s not much younger than me when I died! No more upsetting age gap!”

“Beej,” Lydia whispered. The fork clattered to her plate.

He didn’t listen. He got down on one knee and opened up a ring box. _H_ _e never listens!_ Barbara wanted to scream. The ring inside was black with what looked like a diamond skull on it. Had he manifested that? Or was it an actual ring he’d stolen? “Will you marry me? Again?”

The rest of the table was silent as a grave.

“Beej,” Lydia repeated, shaking her head slightly. She got up from her chair slowly. “Let’s talk. In private.”

Beetlejuice didn’t react immediately, but after a few moments, his smile dropped and he stood. He didn’t poof away or hover; he followed after Lydia with his feet on the ground.

Delia sighed. “That poor demon.”

“ _Don’t_ feel sorry for him,” Charles said, voice quivering with rage. “This is part of some devious scheme to become alive again. He won’t complete it on my watch! Barbara, summon the _Handbook_ and open it for me.”

Barbara startled. “Now?” Beetlejuice was going to need kindness after this (and maybe a few I-told-you-sos). Banishment seemed rather harsh.

“Yes, now!” His gaze could have scorched flesh.

“I—I don’t think that’s the right thing to do, Charles.” Adam’s hand on her shoulder made her feel braver. “This doesn’t seem like an evil scheme. You know how bad Beetlejuice is with emotions—he let his get the better of him.”

“And Lydia is certainly strong enough to deal with him on her own,” Delia added.

“She shouldn’t have to be! It’s our job as parents to protect her from the attentions of that psychopath.” Charles sighed. “How did we let this happen?” His gaze landed on Maitland. “Of course. We made a demon your uncle. That psychopath became our family, when we should have been looking for a way to exorcise him!

“No more will that demon have access to my little girl!” Charles slammed his fist on the table. Delia flinched. “If you won’t help me, Barbara, I’ll find some other way to stop him—permanently.”

Barbara and Adam shared an alarmed look.

Delia laid her hand on Charles’s and squeezed gently. “Breathe, my love. This isn’t like it was the last time.”

Upstairs, the conversation was getting heated. Lydia’s voice rose, sharp and angry, with Beetlejuice snapping back at her.

Charles threw his napkin down and stood. “I’m putting an end to this.”

“— ** _WISH I’D NEVER COME BACK!_** ” Beetlejuice howled, but below the reverb and anger was so much pain. Barbara sighed wearily. If only he’d just listened to her and Adam.... “ ** _BYE FOREVER, LYDS!_** ”

Charles strode out of the room, shoulders up and tight. He ran into Lydia coming down the stairs, her pale face flushed. He reached out to her, gave her a brief hug, and looked her over.

“I’m okay, Dad,” she said roughly. Glancing over at the dining room table, she managed a dry smile. “Never a dull dinner party in the Deetz household, is there?”

Nobody chuckled, and Lydia’s expression sobered. “Sorry about that, everyone. Beetlejuice convinced himself was in love with me, and then convinced himself that this meant I was secretly in love with him—despite me not dating him, kissing him, or showing any romantic interest in him. He thought I’d swoon over a big romantic gesture in front of my family.” She shook her head. “The strength of his delusion was quite impressive.”

“Where did he go?” Charles said darkly.

“The basement or the roof, I guess?” She looked quizzically at her father. “I’m all right, Dad. Unpleasantly surprised, but that’s all. He didn’t hurt me.”

“Your father’s upset that Beetlejuice wants to become alive again,” Delia explained.

“We should never have let him into our home,” Charles said. “Look what he just did!” He looked at his daughter. “You’ve always been too soft-hearted toward him, and I’ve indulged it for far too long.”

“He wanted love so badly he looked for it in the wrong place. Seriously, Dad? If you banish him from the house, I’ll just invite him into mine. It’ll be insanely awkward, but he doesn’t deserved to be kicked out of the family.”

“I agree,” Maitland said.

“You’re only 10,” Charles said, struggling for calm.

“Am I not allowed to have an opinion?”

“You’re too young to understand the situation clearly.”

Maitland stared, stricken, at their father. They stood, and coldly said, “I’m going to check on my uncle, with or _without_ your leave.” That was the equivalent of a full-blown tantrum.

Charles stormed off to his room, followed by Delia, and Maitland walked stiffly downstairs.

Lydia caught Barbara and Adam and help them clean up. “Feel free to say ‘I told you so,’” she said with a wry smile.

“We would never do that.” Barbara patted Lydia’s shoulder. “I’m sorry we couldn’t stop it.”

“He told me you tried. Thanks for looking out for me. Especially since I’m an agent of chaos and evil.”

“You’re misguided,” Adam said softly. “People make mistakes. We hope you’ll realize yours.”

“It’s definitely put the plan on hold.” Lydia rubbed her temples. “I can _not_ believe that stupid fuck.”

Normally, Barbara would say something about language, but she didn’t want to tell a 27-year-old woman how to react to a person she’d thought of as a dear friend declaring his incredibly inappropriate love for her in front of her entire family.

They washed and dried the dishes in silence. What else was there to say?

Eventually, Maitland came upstairs. “He’s in the basement, crying.”

Barbara huffed. “Serves him right! He had plenty of opportunities to work through his feelings on his own. Delia’s a therapist, for crying out loud. He could’ve talked to her.”

“I agree with Barbara,” Adam said. “Of course, we don’t want to see anyone hurt, but Beetlejuice has to learn that actions have consequences.”

Maitland cleared their throat. “Er, may I still bring him down some brownies? It might make him feel better.”

“He doesn’t deserve brownies,” Barbara grumbled.

“Denying carbs to someone who’s just been dumped?” Lydia glanced at Maitland. “What kind of household are they raising you in, sib?”

Barbara was feeling petty enough to add, “Okay, but just one!” She noticed Maitland snuck a second, but she didn’t have the heart to repeat herself.

“Savage, Barbara,” Lydia joked.

At least someone could find some humour in the situation.


	19. Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most of the Maitland-Deetz household rallies to help Beetlejuice overcome his heartbreak. Beetlejuice isn't always grateful.

The morning after Beetlejuice’s failed proposal, Adam turned his attention to Charles. After a long chat in Charles’s office, Adam reported back. “I understand where he’s coming from. Beetlejuice couldn’t have done more to bring up everything that happened 12 years ago. Charles is carrying a lot of guilt about how that went down.”

Delia assured Barbara and Adam that they wouldn’t have to worry about Charles calling in ghost hunters. Barbara hoped she was right.

Hours passed, and Beetlejuice didn’t leave the basement.

Barbara wanted to give him space. “I’m probably going to blurt out ‘I told you so,’” she admitted privately to Adam. “That’s not what he needs to hear right now.”

“Maybe a distraction would help?” Adam asked. “I think he’d really like _Doctor Who_. _Torchwood_ , at least.” He’d been doing a rewatch that Barbara had tried and failed to be interested in.

“I think he’d prefer porn and petty crime, honestly. But feel free to try.”

She went up to the attic and went back to a work in progress, an acrylic painting of a farmer’s field near her parents’ home. It was going much more slowly than she would’ve liked. When she’d started it weeks ago, she’d lost a whole day trying to decide where to put her first brush stroke.

The demon wasn’t interested in _Doctor Who_. Days passed without much sign of life from his room.

Delia tried to engage with the demon. She would slip workbook sheets under the junk room door or tell him inspirational quotes. Once, she knocked on his door; just as she pulled her hand away, the door become a wall of scorpions. She contented herself with worksheets and quotes after that.

Maitland was the only person he let in. They visited their uncle every day. Maitland’s two-week train trip with Lydia was still happening; they obviously wanted to do what they could for their uncle before leaving.

Years of making sure Beetlejuice wasn’t corrupting Maitland were hard to shake off. One Saturday afternoon, Barbara found herself listening in on their conversation as she left the laundry room.

“Knight to E7,” Maitland said. “Your move.”

“Chess can bite my saggy grey ass,” Beetlejuice growled.

“Would it help if you made the pieces kill each other, Uncle?”

He sniffled. “Too much work.”

“I think I’m going to miss this when it’s all over,” Maitland said. “The fanfic, I mean. I do hope I will loom large enough in the author’s mind to merit a sequel of my further adventures.”

“This is the worst fic ever. No sex scenes, terrible pacing, this awful Beetlejuice/Lydia subplot.... I’m glad everyone fucking stopped reading. This fic is actually a Beetlejuice/No One fanfic, because no one...” he started sobbing “...will ever...love...Beetlejuice! And...I’m...the fic’s star!”

“I believe it’s been from Barbara’s point of view this entire time—”

“The star, goddamnit!”

Barbara tried to understand what they were talking about, but she just couldn’t get it, like when Adam tried to explain exactly what was wrong with the JJ Abrams _Star Trek_ movies. Growing up with ghosts and demons certainly had made Maitland unique.

“Protagonists in fiction leave their basements, Uncle,” Maitland said kindly. “They pick themselves up after failure and have new adventures. Come along. We have most of the day ahead of us. Surely a 10-year-old scamp and their favourite undead uncle can find some mischief to get into.”

Barbara was moving toward the stairs when Beetlejuice laughed, loud and ugly. She stopped to listen in more.

“You fucking think we’re pals, kid? I needed your sister to say my name three times. You being normal is part of a deal I made when you were a baby. That’s the only reason I ever talked to you.”

Barbara’s heart ached for Maitland in the silence that followed. _I should have banished him when Charles asked. Bastard._

“You’re only dissembling because you’re in distress, Uncle,” Maitland said coolly. “I’ll leave you to your completely self-inflicted misery.”

Maitland left the junk room. Seeing Barbara, they stopped. Barbara held her arms out; they accepted the hug stiffly.

“He shouldn’t have been so cruel to you,” Barbara murmured, kissing the top of their head.

They shrugged. “I know he’s lying. He’s not that good an actor.” But they hugged her back tightly before they went upstairs.

Barbara whirled around. “Beetlejuice,” she hissed. “Don’t ever talk to Maitland like that again.”

Suddenly, a black-and-white snake was in her face, fangs bared. Barbara couldn’t help but stumble back, yelping in surprise.

Then she snapped her hand out and grabbed the snake behind the head. Using her ghostly power, she told the snake to relax. Strangely, Barbara smelled a hint of cut grass and fresh-turned earth.

The snake was winding its way over her shoulders when Beetlejuice roared, “I’m a demon! **_I’LL TALK TO ANYONE HOWEVER I FUCKING WANT!_** ”

His head phased through the door, green hair extra spikey, mouth fanged. Seeing the snake coiled cheerfully over her shoulders, he snarled “Traitor!” The snake vanished in a puff of foul-smelling smoke.

Barbara’s frustration made her snap, “Then you’ll be alone forever.”

He sucked in a breath, his spikey hair deflating.

“You have to give to get what you want. Like an apology to a 10-year-old child who loves you.”

He rolled his eyes and phased his head back through the door. But Barbara knew she’d gotten to him. Since when did Beetlejuice leave a conversation without getting the last word?

* * *

Barbara’s words weren’t enough to get the demon to apologize before Maitland left on their trip.

“The demon hurt Maitland because he knows Maitland is one of his weak points,” Delia said at their next parenting meeting. “Or perhaps he drove them away so he wouldn’t inflict more pain on them? I’m not sure. If I could just get him to see me regularly, I could get a diagnosis and we could start on a treatment plan. Believe it or not, we’d been making some progress during our anger management lessons before...all this.” 

Charles shook his head. “I don’t want to see anyone else in this family devoting more time to managing him. We all have our own lives to lead.” He glanced at Barbara and Adam after he realized what he’d said. “Ah, apologies.”

“We know what you meant,” Adam said.

“I’m glad that Maitland is getting out of this house,” Charles said. “Their world is so insular.” Whether summer camps, chess club or youth choir, Maitland never seemed to nurture any connections they made. It worried the adults that their family seemed to be all they needed.

“I agree,” Barbara said. “They can get out and see more of the world than this town.”

Charles nodded stiffly at her. There continued to be some lingering tension between her and Charles. Barbara wasn’t sure what to do about it. Hopefully, it would pass with time. She wasn’t going to apologize for not summoning the _Handbook_ when Charles asked.

Maitland left on their trip with their sister. They met Lydia at the train station; she wasn’t about to come to the house just yet.

Barbara and Adam marked each day of Beetlejuice’s heartbreak on their calendar. At one week, they knocked on the door of his room, and he actually said, “Come in.”

His room had changed since Barbara had entered it years ago. Nothing was dusted, organized or clean, but the demon had set down roots: there was the video game system from the time Beetlejuice wanted to be a professional gamer; the cookbooks from his cooking phase, which ended after a terrible bout of food poisoning; Lydia’s old guitar, which Beetlejuice had borrowed when he was convinced he was going to be a rock star. Above his bed were a few photos: Maitland at five, wearing a cute pink dress; eight-year-old Maitland dressed up as a sandworm for Halloween, some of Lydia’s photos of graveyards.

There had been photos of Lydia alone and Lydia and Beetlejuice, but they were gone now.

Beetlejuice had manifested a bed. He lay curled up under the covers; all she could see of him was his left foot, pale grey with ragged toenails. Above the bed was a roiling black cloud.

“Just say ‘I told you so,’ you assholes,” he grumbled, voice muffled by the covers. “I should’ve listened to you. Argh!” He sniffled. “So desperate for love that I act like a fucking idiot.” His mother had said something like that before she threw him into the jaws of a sandworm.

But he wasn’t exactly wrong, was he?

Adam was, as usual, a better person than Barbara, and kindly said, “Love does make people crazy.” Barbara rested her head on his shoulder. Not everybody was lucky enough to find their soulmate in high school and to keep that soulmate after death. He smiled at her, kissing her forehead. “But we still have to take responsibility for our actions.”

She sat down on Beetlejuice’s bed. “We just wanted to let you know that Maitland left on their trip with Lyd—”

The cloud above the bed flashed with lightning and started raining. Barbara almost got off the bed before she manifested an umbrella. Beetlejuice curled up in the fetal position, whimpering.

“They’ll be checking in every night at eight. I’m just telling you in case you want to say anything to them in the next two weeks. Like an apology...?”

Beetlejuice’s head popped out of the covers, his green hair mussed, eyes sunken in and bloodshot. “Your parents ruining your life builds character,” he grumbled. His skin had a few more mossier patches than usual. “I’d know. I’m helping them.” He wiped the rain off his face them ducked back under the covers. The bed didn’t seem to be getting wet.

“And you can make sure Maitland doesn’t suffer anything close to what you suffered growing up,” Barbara said. “That’s what you said when you told us about The Hades Touch spell, remember? You didn’t want to hurt Maity or...well, anyone else.”

Suddenly, the bed was a mass of bugs: centipedes, beetles, cockroaches, spiders and worms. As Barbara began to sink, Adam grabbed her and pulled her out.

Beetlejuice sat up from the bug-pile slowly, like a zombie. The rain made the bugs scatter, showing off patches of comfy-looking black-and-white pyjamas. “I’ll grab some chalk and go to the Netherworld, where I belong.”

Barbara startled, sharing a concerned look with Adam. Adam gave her a small, helpless shrug. Out of the two of them, she was the people person.

Barbara flashed back to her best friend, Sarah, from college. She’d had some dark times as she struggled with classes, and Barbara had tried to help her through them. But Sarah had been human with understandable problems.

_Think like a demon. A very lonely, sad demon._

“There aren’t any fart jokes in the Netherworld,” she said. He’d said that at some point, because he was always saying weird, disgusting things.

That startled Beetlejuice into a chuckle. “That’s it? That’s your big speech? Fuck. Someone’s coasting today.”

“I’m trying to speak your language.”

“That’s...not half bad, actually.” The rain slowed to a drizzle. “Coulda used more swearing, though. Heh.” Beetlejuice began hovering, shaking a few more bugs off him. “D’you know every breather’s farts are different because everyone has different bugs in their guts?”

“Bacteria?” Adam asked.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Maity told me that. Learned it from a TV show or something, and they told me that to crack me up. Wouldn’t let me try to light their farts on fire, though. Said they didn’t trust me with a lighter.”

“They’re a smart young person,” Adam said.

Beetlejuice’s gaze drifted to the photos of Maitland. He hovered up and grabbed the one of Maitland on Halloween. “Yeah,” he murmured fondly.

Suddenly, the photo was on fire, crumbling to ash in his hand.

“But not that smart,” he growled. His eyes were bright and hard. “When I’m a demon, I fuck everything up. When I’m not a demon, I fuck everything up. Lyds was right not to—” he started choking up “—not to love me. She’s the smart one. She—”

The huge black cloud appeared above him, flashing lightning and pouring rain. Beetlejuice manifested another bed and curled up under the covers.

Barbara looked to Adam, who was staring pityingly up at the floating bed. After a moment, Adam gestured them out, and they left the room.

“Let’s keep watch, just in case,” Adam said. “I don’t want to be the one to tell Lydia and Maitland that we let Beetlejuice vanish to another plane of existence without trying to stop him.”

So Barbara moved her painting to the basement, and Adam watched his _Doctor Who_ on the couch next to the treadmill none of the living had ever used.

* * *

Delia’s morning inspirational quote was: “The secret of change is to focus not on fighting the old, but on building the new!” She slipped another work sheet under the junk room door, adding, “I believe Socrates said that.”

“Eh, pretty sure he didn’t,” Beetlejuice commented. “Also, Socrates is the world’s bossiest bottom.”

“Oh,” Delia said, surprised. She glanced at Barbara and Adam. “Have they met?”

Barbara shrugged. “We take his stories of famous orgies with a grain of salt.”

“And any story of the Netherworld turns into a famous orgy story,” Adam added. “No matter how they start.”

From behind the door, Beetlejuice chuckled. “Hell yeah, they do.”

“May I speak with you, demon?” Delia asked.

After a moment's hesitation, he growled, “Fine. Get in here. Just don’t think you’re gonna fix me.”

Beaming, Delia reached in her purse for a pen, a pad of paper, and an aquamarine crystal on a silver chain. She’d clearly been waiting for this. “I don’t ‘fix’ anyone, my dear. I merely give my clients the tools to actualize the lives they envision for themselves.”

Over Beetlejuice’s annoyed, “Gimme a break,” Delia stepped into his room and closed the door behind her.

It felt a bit like they were letting a lamb walk into a lion’s den. “Should we go in with her?” Barbara asked.

“If she’s seeing him in her capacity as a therapist, can we really interfere?” Adam said.

Barbara hadn’t thought about it like that. “I guess not.”

Adam raised the volume on his tablet so they weren’t listening in. They caught a loud “I WILL NEVER LOVE AGAIN!” at around the half-hour mark, but that was all.

An hour and a half later, Delia stepped back out, looking satisfied.

“How did it go?” Barbara asked.

“It was a great start. Sorry, I can’t say more. Technically, I shouldn’t be even treating a member of my own family, but it is what it is.”

Barbara loved Delia, but she was so optimistic. She wondered if Beetlejuice had the same thoughts. _Then again, maybe I should leave the professional to her professional opinion?_ Sometimes, Barbara found herself reverting to her original thoughts about Delia as a flighty woman with bad taste in art and interior design. She'd come so far from the person Barbara had first met.

Over the next few days, the demon did seem more interested in engaging with the household. Delia visited him every morning for a therapy session. One day, while Adam was vacuuming upstairs after lunch, Barbara found her painting gone from its easel and a bunch of printed pages in its place.

In Beetlejuice’s broad, childish scrawl were the words: _Things Babs could paint that aren’t crap._ The photos, some complete with watermarks, were of creepy dolls, a set of smoker’s lungs, mouldy bread, and maggots spilling out of a dead raccoon on the side of the road.

“Where’s my painting, Beetlejuice?” she asked the closed junk room door.

“Threw it in the trash. You woulda found it when you took it out.”

In fact, he’d placed it rather delicately on top of the trash, so the surface was untouched. He’d bothered to show concern for her and read the family chore schedule. _Maybe someday he’ll actually do chores himself._

She brought her painting downstairs. “I’m not accepting artistic critique at this time, Beetlejuice. This landscape’s really important to me. My parents lived across from that farm. I saw it every day growing up. I want to see if I remember what it looked like at sunset. I should be able to.”

“Why don’t you paint your family if you miss ‘em so much?” he asked casually.

The question surprised her. That she didn’t have an answer disturbed her. Suddenly, her body felt empty and aching. She would have gasped, but she didn’t need to breathe. Mom, Dad, Chrissy.... Would she ever be able to speak to them again? What would happen if she and Adam went to the Netherworld after so long in the living world? Would they be able to find their loved ones? Or would it be like Lydia and Charles had described, a vast nothingness?

She wanted to snap at Beetlejuice, but for once, he wasn’t asking to be mean. He’d been curious.

“I...I don’t know,” she admitted. She cleared her throat. “But don’t mess with my things anymore, please.”

He didn’t.

Beetlejuice even started watching _Doctor Who_ with Adam, though his attention span was as bad as always, and Adam was usually busy answering his many questions.

“I suckered him in with the Weeping Angels,” Adam said when they were alone. “I was torn between that and _Torchwood,_ but then I figured an immortal man romantically interested in a young woman wasn’t the right direction to go in.”

Barbara had no idea what he was talking about, but she liked how happy he was. “I’m glad, sweetie!” After the first week of the trip, they’d started sleeping in their bedroom again, convinced that Beetlejuice wasn’t about to leave for the Netherworld in a fit of sadness or rage.

* * *

The eight o’clock Facetimes with Lydia and Maitland were Barbara’s lifeline. It was so wonderful to see Lydia’s photos and hear about the world outside the house. At Maitland’s insistence, they’d seen a Broadway show while taking one of their many ghost tours of NYC. It was great to see their face lit up with excitement. They were such a solemn, serious child.

Unfortunately, Barbara had to stop Adam from telling them about a new attraction or tour every day.

“Are we on a trip together, or are they?” she asked him after the third evening Adam pushed his opinions on them.

He sighed. “It’s their trip, of course. I just wish....”

She knew what he meant. They’d taken a trip to Spain a few years before they died, but they’d always meant to do more travelling. “I know.”

Remembering the smell of grass when she’d used her ghostly powers after Beetlejuice had hurt Maitland, Barbara spent that evening focusing on the world outside, Adam’s arms around her shoulders, a comforting presence at her back. They watched the sun go down, the stars appear and the streetlights turn on. It was a beautiful evening at the end of summer. She wished they’d spent more time relaxing and enjoying these moments when they were alive.

Barbara focused on a struggling white pansy in the front garden. _Hello, pretty thing! Would you like to grow just a bit more? Please?_ She kept thinking that, trying to mother the wilting plant back to health.

Dawn’s light showed a tiny pansy with some white where brown had been. It wasn’t perfectly healthy, but it was a start.

Grinning, she looked back at her husband. If her powers and manifestations were tending toward the natural world, what would Adam’s powers be like? “You could probably manifest spaceships or a TARDIS or something. You’re much more imaginative than me.”

He brushed some of her hair back to kiss her temple. “I still like pretending I’m alive. Which is something I’ll have to get over if we’re ever going to take a trip of our own.”

They weren’t strong enough to fight sandworms yet, but no one ever got stronger without training.

* * *

Almost two weeks after the failed proposal, Beetle-Dog slunk into the room during the family’s nightly Facetime with Maitland and Lydia, tail between his legs and antennae down.

Charles wrinkled his nose as if he’d smelled something disgusting. (Which, since this was Beetlejuice, he had.)

Maitland was smart enough to figure out what was happening, though the phone wasn’t angled so they could see Beetle-Dog. “Good evening, Uncle.”

Beetle-Dog glanced at Charles, whimpering.

“Get out,” Charles snapped.

“Charles,” Delia said reprovingly.

“Unless you wish to admit we’re kin...?” Maitland asked.

“I’m tired of giving a demon chances to hurt my children,” Charles continued.

“I was being an asshole, kid,” Beetle-Dog said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“There,” Delia said, giving Beetle-Dog a quick pat on the head. His tail gave a tentative wag. “You see, Charles? He can learn!”

“Until the next time,” Charles said.

Beetle-Dog crouched even lower. “Got a point, Chuck. Being friends with a demon ain’t a picnic.”

From somewhere on the train, Lydia chuckled. “They know, Beej.”

Beetle-Dog froze for a few seconds. Then he exploded into motion, transparent wings buzzing as he half-ran, half-flew out of the living room.

“That went well.” Lydia sighed. “Will you let him know I’m willing to talk if he is?” They’d managed to avoid talking about Beetlejuice for most of the trip.

After the call, Barbara and Adam found Beetlejuice in human form on the roof. He was wearing his usual suit and leaning against a dormer, staring out at the cemetery.

Barbara said, “Lydia wanted us to tell you she’s willing to talk if you are.”

“Not yet. It’s like a sandworm’s eating my guts when I think about it.”

“Do you want some time alone?” Adam asked.

The demon shrugged. “Eh.” His gaze went out to the cemetery again. “Back before I met you guys, I used to sit up here and feel invisible. All I wanted was for people to see me. And now they can. But...so what? You’re not my kinda people. You're this good, normie, breather family. Lyds gets me, but I screwed that pooch good.

“I shouldn’t be here fucking up everyone’s lives. Maybe I shouldn’t go to the Netherworld, but...I should go, right?”

Selfishly, Barbara couldn’t help but think about how it would make things easier. It might help Maitland adjust better to the world beyond their house. And hadn’t life been more peaceful and consistent when Beetlejuice had been spending all his time with Lydia?

“I won’t ditch you guys,” Beetlejuice added. “If Maity really wants to hang, I’ll be there for them. And I’ll still help you stalk your sister.”

“Visit, Beetlejuice.”

“We watch her when she doesn’t know we’re there. That’s stalking, Babs.”

“Er,” Adam said, “technically, he’s not wrong....” As Barbara raised her eyebrows at him, he added, “But we’re not doing it with malicious intent, so that counts for something.”

 _Good._ “I don’t want to debate this right now. So, Beetlejuice, if you left, where would you go?”

“Eh, I’ll haunt a new place. What do you care? As long as I’m not killing people, you don’t give a shit.”

“We do,” Adam said. He blinked a few times, surprised.

And Barbara realized that she did, too. For the most part, she still treated Beetlejuice like a project she and Adam worked on. But he’d experienced moments of change that made her think he could be a friend. He hadn’t damaged her painting. He’d apologized to Maitland (eventually). And here he was, willing to sacrifice his short-term happiness to give Maitland a stable life.

Beetlejuice scowled at Adam. “Shut up.”

“He’s not lying,” Barbara said. She grabbed his hand, giving it a little squeeze. He startled, eyeing her. “We care for you, Beetlejuice. We’re friends. Somehow. And I don’t think you need to leave. You’ve made some mistakes, true. And with some hard work, you can recognize your patterns and make better choices. But I don’t think you need to exile yourself.”

“Yeah, come on, buddy.” Adam patted him on the shoulder.

Beetlejuice turned his head to say something to Adam, and when the skin of his cheek brushed against Adam’s hand, an electric current jolted through Barbara. Adam gasped and Beetlejuice grunted, hair twitching in surprise. A beetle popped out of his shirt collar and took flight.

Life. Warmth. _Oh, right—I forgot. Adam and I are still holding hands. That circuit we formed years ago. Still works, apparently._

It was as close to being alive as she’d felt in more than a decade. She never wanted it to end.


	20. I Think We're a Perfect Fit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long-forgotten ability leaves Barbara and Adam with some unexpected feelings of their own.

Barbara had grown so used to feeling lukewarm that the sudden warmth made her dizzy.

“Forgot we could do this,” Beetlejuice commented, his voice soft. “Last time was...what? Chapter 12?”

“Mmhmm.” Adam cleared his throat. “Um, feeling a little uncomfortable with my hand on your cheek.”

Barbara waited for ‘Lots more places you could put it, Sexy.’ To her surprise, Beetlejuice just held Adam’s hand and brought it down from his face. Was the demon being slightly appropriate for the situation?

 _What even is the appropriate way to act?_ She tipped her head back, enjoying the feel of the wind so high up. She could almost feel the summer heat outside, with the hint of oncoming fall. She hadn’t been able to feel temperature for so long.

“This feels kinda like being in love,” the demon said. He started to gesture with his hands before realizing both of his were being held, and stopped himself so he didn’t break their connection. “That rush.”

“We remember,” Adam said, squeezing Barbara’s hand.

She giggled. Oh, God, was she almost blushing? She missed so many little things about being alive. Would she start sneezing? She even missed sneezing.

“’Remember’?” Beetlejuice teased. “You’re not in love now?”

“We’ve been together since we were in high school.” How was Adam able to form coherent sentences? He was so sexy. “Our love’s grown and changed. It’s different. Not that rush of new love, but the knowledge that I have my best friend beside me for the rest of my...um, life?” He chuckled. He always got giggly when he was drunk. “Beyond life, I guess.”

Barbara tried to add something to the conversation, but all she could do was nod. _We’re going to make out later. A lot._

True to form, Beetlejuice had more things to say about himself. “That thing I have…er, had for Lydia was like a movie. All perfect.” He sighed wistfully. “Wasn’t real, but shit, that high was—” he finished his sentence with a low, carnal grunt.

Barbara blamed the twinge between her legs as an effect of their connection and her proximity to her sexy husband. Of course, her feelings would get wonky in this situation. Anyone’s would. _We’re going to drop our hands and I’m going to feel really silly._

_Although you don’t notice his stink after a while. And the mossy bits would probably feel interesting against—_

_Nope. Stopping that train of thought in its tracks. Nope, nope, nope._

The one time she needed the demon to proposition them and make things awkward enough for them to break apart, he didn’t. The three of them just held hands and smiled vaguely at each other and the world around them for a while.

Then Beetlejuice gazed down at Barbara’s left hand and started looking sad. _Because of my wedding ring. Poor guy!_ At least her pity crushed her very not-at-all-Barbara feelings for the demon.

“There’s...someone out there for you,” she managed.

Judging by Beetlejuice’s annoyed huff, she didn’t sound very convincing.

The alarm rang on the Maitlands’ phone. The sky was pale, with a splash of gold and pink on the horizon.

“Already?” Adam grumbled.

Barbara sighed. _Stupid undead time skips!_

“Or you could not make breakfast for once,” Beetlejuice said hopefully.

But Adam had already dropped his hand from Beetlejuice’s and Barbara’s to silence their phone, which sat in his back pocket. “It’s part of our day,” he said apologetically.

After a quick squeeze, Barbara stopped holding Beetlejuice’s hand. She shivered at the cold and hurried over to Adam for at least a hint of what she’d lost.

He kissed her cheek. “I think we decided on pancakes this morning?”

“Sounds good.” She glanced at the demon, who was watching them. “We can make some for you, if you want.”

“Much as I love pissing off Chuck, I’ll pass. Go on, pretend you’re still breathers.” That was a pretty tame insult for Beetlejuice to leave them on.

Barbara and Adam walked down from the attic to the house's upper level.

She glanced at her husband. “Mm, do we need to make pancakes?” she asked, reaching up to toy with his hair.

Adam struggled against his instinctive love of schedules. She started kissing his neck to help him make up his mind.

Telling when someone was turned on was harder among the dead. Unless you remembered to manifest it, pupils didn’t flare, skin didn’t produce sweat and breath didn’t come faster. It took him pulling her close, hands on her waist, to let her know which side of him had won. “Probably not," he said. "We should at least tell Delia we’re skipping breakfast duty, though. It’s only polite.”

“Right.”

Barbara poked her head through the closed door of Delia’s office. Delia was in her Lulu Lemon yoga gear on a mat in downward dog pose. Cedar incense burned in the graveyard-themed incense-burner Lydia had gotten her a few Christmases ago. 

“Delia?” she asked, squirming as Adam began kissing the back of her neck.

Delia blinked a few times, getting out of her zone, then focused on Barbara. “Hello, dear.”

“Sorry to interrupt.” His hand slid up the outside of her thigh. “I know Adam and I are scheduled for breakfast soon. But—"

Adam slapped her rear. Barbara startled, fighting to keep her face from showing anything. For once, she was grateful she couldn’t blush.

“—uh, can you take care of it?”

“Oh, of course.”

“Thanks. Bye!” Reaching back, she grabbed Adam’s shoulder and pulled him down the hall, kissing him as they fumbled toward their room. 

They were halfway there when Delia left her office to ask, “Is there a ghost emergency?”

Barbara and Adam broke apart guiltily.

Delia’s eyes widened before she smiled at them. “Ah, nevermind. Have fun, my dears.”

* * *

They did. Six hours of fun, according to their phone. One of the good things about undead lovemaking was that you could go for hours without feeling tired, thirsty or sore.

She didn’t feel as warm as she had touching both Adam and Beetlejuice, but considering Adam had made her come so many times she stopped counting, she didn’t mind.

 _Having both would be amazing, though._ But why think what was never going to happen? She put it out of her mind.

They were kissing, naked, on their bed. Clothes, throw pillows and the duvet had been tossed to the floor.

“Why don’t we do this more?” Barbara murmured, running her hand along Adam’s chest. “Every day? Every hour?”

“We don’t want to become happiness zombies.” He kissed languidly up her neck. “Remember, like that episode of _The Good Place_?”

“Ugh, can you not be smart for one second?”

“We could certainly do this more than our usual once every week, though.”

“Ooo, yes please.”

He kissed her lips. “All this because you needed a math tutor.”

Adam being her math tutor was the reason they’d first started hanging out in high school. Shy nerds and artsy popular girls didn’t usually run in the same social circles.

“James McKay had better prices, but you got better grades,” she recalled dreamily. 

“I’m so glad we found each other,” he murmured against her skin.

“Me too.” Poor Beetlejuice would have to search the world for what she and Adam had. She thought back to the conversation she’d had with the demon months ago, when she’d first mentioned Beetlejuice joining the dating scene. He hadn’t seemed interested in looking then. Maybe he’d change his mind now?

Adam pulled away, eyebrows raised slightly. “Hmm. Are you glad you found me? Or are you looking for someone a bit more—” he was suddenly wearing Beetlejuice’s suit “—dangerous?” He did a very bad impression of the demon’s rasp. “I saw the way you were looking at him, dollface.”

_Busted._

Barbara was, once again, relieved that she couldn’t blush. She covered her face with a pillow and shrieked into it. “I want a divorce.” She bopped him with the pillow for emphasis.

Adam chuckled. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll stop teasing you. Particularly,” he focused on fluffing up the pillow, “since it’s a thought that crossed my mind, as well. For a second.”

“That connection was just so intense.”

He met her gaze, nodding emphatically. “I know!”

“I mean, we wouldn’t have done anything—”

“Obviously!”

“And was I the only one expecting some sexual comment from him?”

“You definitely were not. ‘You know, a quick bang would cure a broken heart....’” Adam’s version of Beetlejuice was all waggling eyebrows and cheesy grins. “Or something better than that.”

“I think that’s exactly what he would’ve said. You’ve got his voice down.”

“After 10 years, I guess I picked up a few things from him. Anything else you want?” Adam asked, eyes twinkling. “His smell, perhaps?”

“Oh, yes. How did you know?” She mimed a swoon. “Rotting flesh is so hot.” She paused. “Wait, I shouldn’t make fun—we’re probably going to smell that bad when we’ve been dead as long as he has.”

“I assume so,” Adam said uneasily.

They sat with that thought until Barbara grabbed Adam by his tie. “Forget I said anything.” She pulled him into a kiss.

“Want me to keep the suit on?” he teased.

“I don’t want you wearing anything.” She focused her power over his version of Beetlejuice’s suit, which was much cleaner and newer than Beetlejuice’s actual suit. That made her grin. Even when Adam was trying to be someone else, he was still her husband.

Adam’s ghostly power didn’t put up a fight, and she vanished his suit with barely any effort.

Their phone chimed again as ‘Maitland Home!’ flashed on the screen. Had they really lost four more hours?

Regretfully, Barbara pulled away. Time to return to the real world. “Let’s get ready.”


	21. Another Awkward Family Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beetlejuice works on himself (to varying degrees of success), Maitland tries to learn more about the Netherworld, and Barbara and Adam have an important conversation.

In the weeks that followed, Beetlejuice’s biggest fear came to pass: he and Lydia spent much less time together.

Surprisingly, his world didn’t end, at least as far as Barbara could tell. Even more surprisingly, Beetlejuice was the one keeping his distance. “He says he’s working on himself,” Lydia told Barbara and Adam during their weekly Facetime. “What does an ancient undead demon ‘working on himself’ even look like?”

From the outside, it involved lounging around, shouting at the TV, and pestering people.

As usual, Adam was the nice one. “He sees Delia semi-regularly. Er, when he remembers to.”

“And it helps that Maity’s back, of course,” Barbara added. “We’re seeing a lot more Beetle-Dog these days.” That was one of Beetlejuice’s favourite forms for interacting with Maitland, which was surprisingly sentimental of the demon. Once, Barbara had asked him if he’d had a pet growing up, and he’d chortled and said, “Sure! Lotsa times. For dinner.”

Lydia’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m glad he and Maity are friends again. Anyway, enough about my dead maybe-friend. I’m going to Claire’s poetry reading tonight. Wish you could come.”

“We’re working on travelling on our own,” Barbara said. The Maitland-Deetzes’ front garden was in bloom even with fall closing in.

Beetlejuice started a tradition called Take Your Demon to Work Day, which mostly involved pranking Charles’s office. He made the vending machine spit out free food (with literal spit, which lessened everyone’s excitement significantly). Somehow, he made every printer print pages of ‘REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM’ at the same time.

One Wednesday, Charles came home after only an hour at work. “Demon!” he shouted as he slammed the door behind him. “Get in here!”

“What happened, darling?” Delia asked.

“He wrapped the whole office in bubble wrap. Every single piece of furniture. Even the toilets and sinks!”

Beetlejuice’s disembodied voice commented, “Your assistant wrapped your stuff in bubble wrap when you went to Greece. Maybe it was him.”

“That was a joke between friends! This is warfare against the hardworking people at my agency.”

“I’m sure the good little corporate drones _hated_ getting the day off.”

Charles wasn’t quite sure where to look; the demon’s voice seemed to be coming from everywhere. “If the agency isn’t open, we don’t make money. If we don’t make money, our employees suffer and we might, God forbid, have to lay people off.”

“Oh nooooooo. Am I disrupting your capitalist money-chasing, Chuck? Jesus Christ! Enjoy the time off. Play with your kid!” Lydia would love knowing that some of her socialist politics had rubbed off on her friend.

Charles did enjoy the day off, but not before having a spiritual healer and medium come through the office, spraying incense and burning sage.

Beetlejuice confided in Barbara and Adam that it wouldn’t really keep him out, but he was letting Charles think it did. “Then one day, I’ll prank him just after he’s done some mystical BS. It’ll be awesome!”

* * *

Sometimes, Beetlejuice joined the family for dinner, usually for dessert. Tonight, dessert was a black forest cake. Outside, the October evening was dark and grey.

The demon was on his third piece of cake. Knowing his table manners, Barbara wasn’t looking at him so she wouldn’t get grossed out.

As Maitland took their plates away (one of their chores for the week), Adam commented, “I’ve always wondered why you eat, Beetlejuice. I haven’t felt hungry since the day we died. So why do you...?”

“Because I like eating. Also, sex. The physical stuff. Unlike you losers.”

“Actually, we’re doing pretty well,” Barbara said. “And, no, I’m not giving you details.”

“I could not care less about the boring vanilla shit you two get up to. Besides, haven’t you been married for a billion years? No married couple’s that happy.”

“Actually,” Delia said. She’d had a rough week at work and had two glasses of wine with dinner. “The other week, these two were so frisky—”

Adam realized what she was saying before Barbara did, and started frantically making cut-it-out gestures with his hand.

But Delia didn’t notice. “—You left me to make breakfast.”

Barbara froze. Beetlejuice would never let them live this down.

The demon rolled his eyes. “Liar.” He swallowed the cake, licked the icing off his fingers, then ate the rest of his piece.

Barbara breathed a sigh of relief.

“And,” Delia continued loudly, pointing her finger in the air emphatically, “there’s no reason a married couple can’t have an exciting sex life as long as you’re open to trying new things and communicating with your partner.”

Maitland rejoined the table, their nose wrinkled. “Mother, I could hear everything you just said, and I don’t believe it was appropriate for my age.”

“So, how’s the new development coming, Charles?” Barbara said loudly. “Are those contractors still giving you grief?”

“Want another slice, pal?” Adam said to Beetlejuice, cutting the demon another slice of cake.

“ _Food, glorious foooood_ ,” Beetlejuice sang, snatching the new plate immediately after Adam was finished.

“ _Hot sausage and mustard_ ,” Maitland sang back.

As the demon and the child went through the rest of the song, Charles launched into another story about his company’s new contractors, and Barbara relaxed.

At least, she relaxed until Beetlejuice suddenly stopped singing and leaned back in his chair, neon green mathematical formulae and diagrams floating above his head.

“Maitland!” Adam cried out, springing out of his chair. “Let’s get to that homework.”

Maitland knew when the adults were anticipating a potential Beetlejuice explosion of inappropriateness. They didn’t look happy, but they left, with a parting, “Be kind, Uncle,” over their shoulder. Adam mouthed ‘Back soon’ to Barbara over Maitland’s head as they went up the stairs to Maitland’s room.

“Fascinating stuff as usual, Chuck,” Beetlejuice said. The formulae vanished. “Let’s back up a sec: when exactly did Babs and Sexy bone?”

“I can’t recall,” Delia said lightly. “Anyone for coffee?”

But Beetlejuice clearly had some idea. His grin grew too big for a human face, teeth becoming fangs. His eyes glowed green like the moon reflecting off the eyes of a feral cat—a diseased, horny feral cat.

Almost a full year of no sexual propositions had been so lovely. _Shouldn’t have taken it for granted._

“Do I need to mention the house rules, demon?” Charles warned.

“ ** _No_** ,” he growled, just a hint of demonic reverb in his tone. A halo appeared over his head, though it wavered and sputtered as he tried to contain himself.

“Did you possess them or put some sort of spell on Barbara and Adam?” Delia said worriedly.

Barbara startled. “What?”

Delia spread her hands helplessly. “ _The Handbook for the Recently Deceased_ seems to be both a guide book and a spell book. I barely understand how you three work—I don’t have any clue about ghost magic.”

“It wasn’t,” Barbara explained. Adam slipped back into the room. Cringing, she managed, “So, um, you know how Adam and I feel a bit warmer when we’re touching? It turns out that’s multiplied when we’re...all touching. Which we accidentally found out.”

Suddenly, a miniature red Beetlejuice popped into existence over the dining room table. Its hair was curled into two horns, and a pointed devil tail streamed out behind it.

“Babs, Sexy,” the imp squeaked, “do me! Do me do me do me—”

To her surprise, Beetlejuice started swatting at the imp. His hand eventually connected, sending it careening into the cake with a splat. 

“Woah!” the imp said, muffled. “Cake!” It paused. “I’m gonna fuck it!”

“No!” Beetlejuice snarled, yanking the imp out and violently smashing its icing-covered form on the table. Barbara couldn’t help but flinch at the thump. The imp’s tongue lolled out and Xes appeared where its eyes had been.

Beetlejuice pulled the rest of the cake toward him and began eating it. “I’ll just take the rest of this. He might come back.”

After Beetlejuice appeared to be done, Delia and Charles turned their attention back to the Maitlands.

“Long story short,” Adam said, “nobody possessed anybody and everything that happened was consensual.”

“All three of us touching isn’t really even a...a you-know-what thing,” Barbara added.

“Sex, Babs!” Beetlejuice snapped. He slapped his hand over his mouth. After jerking in his chair under the effort not to speak, he finally poofed away with a burst of red flame.

When he didn’t pop back up, Barbara continued. “It’s just...we feel....”

“Alive. Or closer to it.”

Barbara wished she could explain to the living how much it meant to them, but she wasn’t sure she could do the concept justice.

Delia winced. “I’m so sorry I brought it up, Maitlands.”

“You didn’t know,” Barbara said.

“Let me know if he starts harassing you again,” Charles said. “I can get a priest here in half an hour. You shouldn’t have to put up with—” he gestured to Beetlejuice’s seat “—him.”

A creak sounded on the top of the stairs.

“Maitland?” Charles said, surprised.

After a few moments, Maitland slunk down the stairs, slouched over and glowering at the adults.

Barbara wanted to die again. Why did they have to eavesdrop on _that_? Adam buried his head in his hands with a low groan.

Charles took charge of the moment. “Maitland, you know better than to eavesdrop. Go to your room while we discuss your punishment.”

“It’s the only way anybody tells me anything about ghosts or the Netherworld! You won’t even open the _Handbook of the Recently Deceased_ for me.”

This wasn’t the first time they’d brought this up. “Because it’s too dangerous for the living,” Barbara said. “It’s dangerous for us, and we’re ghosts!”

“Don’t be in such a hurry to learn about the afterlife, Maitland,” Charles said gently. “Focus on the living world.”

“We’d become alive in a heartbeat,” Adam said.

“I know!” A Maitland who couldn’t find an over-the-top word was an upset Maitland. They stomped upstairs, sighing and huffing.

“Thanks, Charles,” Adam said. “Barbara and I keep trying to tell them, but they just don’t listen.”

Charles chuckled dryly. “Having the same conversation repeatedly is one of the joys of parenting. So, should we tell them no music for a week?”

Maitland was a hard child to punish; they loved staying in their room, so grounding didn’t work. The adults eventually decided on taking away Maitland’s books for three days.

* * *

That evening, a knock sounded at the door to the Maitlands’ bedroom; since they hadn’t heard footsteps leading up to it, they knew Beetlejuice was on the other side.

After sharing a look with Adam, Barbara opened the door.

Beetlejuice started reading from an index card. “I am here to apologize if I did anything to make you uncomfortable this evening. And if you want to experience our unique connection in a nonsexual manner, I am open to discussing it in a mature—wait, _non_ sexual?! Shit, shoulda read this before I started.” He shouted down the hallway, “Delia, you’re the worst therapist ever!”

Turning back to Barbara and Adam, he said, “I’d make it sexual. C’mon, you guys know me by now.”

“We do,” Adam agreed. “Thank you for apologizing, buddy. We appreciate you trying to be good.”

He flapped his hands dismissively. “Don’t get used to it. I got a lotta evil planned. The world’s still shit. Lyds ain’t here to tell me what to do, but I’ll figure _something_ out.”

Barbara frowned. No one wanted Beetlejuice as a free agent. “Or you could just take it easy for a while? Be kind to yourself. You’ve been through a lot, these past few weeks.”

“I’m bored of floating around. Pissing off Chuck’s fun, but there’s more to unlife than that! D’you know that one of the assholes who put kids in cages has a new book coming out? Gotta be something I can do with that! And—” He stopped himself, frowning.

“I’m sure Lydia would love to hear you say that,” Barbara said gently. “You know you can talk to her without using your job as an excuse, right?”

He recoiled slightly at her name. “Whatever.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m not doing this for her. I’m doing this for—” he began to frown “—some stupid-ass breather world?” His frown deepened before he shook himself all over, like a dog.

“Pretend you never heard me say that shit,” he grumbled. “So! Um.” He began fiddling with his tie, smiling at them. “What I came here to say after the apology is you know where to go for a casual hook-up.” 

Barbara waited for a sales pitch or begging, but they didn’t come. Gone was his frantic energy and neediness. _He’s actually casual for once._

“Just putting it out there," he said, "take or leave it. No pressure. I won’t even bring it up again.”

Beetlejuice wasn’t as sexy as Adam, but in that moment, he was the hottest he’d ever been to Barbara.

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Barbara said lightly. “Now, if you'll excuse us, we have some big plans tonight.”

Beaming, Adam held up the 3D _Star Wars_ puzzle Charles had bought Adam for his birthday.

Beetlejuice stared at the two of them, disgusted. “This is why we’re not friends.” He poofed away, leaving only his usual smell of rotting flesh behind.

“Was that growth?” Barbara asked as she closed the door.

“I think it was growth. From evil horny child to evil horny teenager.”

“Maybe someday he’ll reach adulthood.”

“Or not. After all, lots of living people don’t get past the teenager stage. Remember Tim, from college?”

“Ugh, you're right.”

They sat down at the card table they’d used to pass the time when Maitland was a baby, and started the puzzle.

“For someone who keeps propositioning us,” Barbara commented as she examined the pieces, “you’d think he’d stop with all the bugs. Maybe clean up a little.”

“That’d be nice. Clearly, he’s not really a seduction kinda guy. Aha!” Adam pressed two pieces together. He was always so much faster than her. “First connection! Maitlands 2.0!”

“Maitlands 2.0!” They high-fived before going back to the puzzle.

As they worked, Adam commented, “He’d be like making love with Bugs Bunny. Or the Genie from _Aladdin_. He’s such a cartoon character.”

Barbara let that lie for a little while. They had lots of puzzle pieces to connect, after all. She reviewed everything she’d learned from Delia about communication in relationships. _Just state your desires in an open, respectful manner._

And she chickened out.

“The funny thing,” Barbara commented, “if he had us, I don’t think he’d even want us that much? We’re pretty vanilla and his tastes are pretty extreme.” In the bad old days, Beetlejuice would cheerfully describe the latest porn he'd watched to his unwilling audience. Barbara still didn’t know what some of the words he’d used meant, and didn’t want to find out. “He’d probably get bored of us in a week.”

Or he’d never leave them alone. Or he’d turn them down because of his unresolved feelings for Lydia, and wouldn’t Barbara feel like a stupid slut then? _What would Mom or Chrissy say if they could hear me now? Or what if Jesus exists? What if my Savior is listening to me be a sinner?!_

But that connection had been so strong....

_Which isn’t fair to Beetlejuice. If all we’re chasing is a high, we’re just using him. And, morally, can we even sleep with someone who’s barely more mature than a child?_

“Barbara?” Adam asked.

She’d stopped working on the puzzle. “Um, sorry, sweetie. The puzzle’s just not cutting it right now.”

“Is there something you want to talk about?” he said carefully.

 _Right. I’m the one who’s so good with people, so I’m the one that has to bring this up._ Barbara was tired of being the people person. “Is there something _you_ want to talk about?”

Adam stared at the puzzle in front of him, shoulders rising as he tensed. “Yes. But,” he added quickly, “I’d rather die a second time than change what we have between us. I love you more than anything.”

She grabbed his hand, pulling it to her mouth and kissing his knuckles. “And I love you.”

“Even knowing part of me wants to make out with a demon?” Adam said with a weak smile.

There. They’d finally said it. Barbara smiled at him, a weight lifting from her.

“Once he’s showered,” he added.

“Oh, yeah, shower is a must-have.”

“And brushed his teeth, ideally.”

“And,” Barbara added, “if he’s not committing evil acts.”

“Yes. That, too. That probably should’ve been my first condition, not the third.”

She squeezed Adam’s hand. “A weird, probably-regrettable night with a demon isn’t going to change how I feel about you. Nothing could.” She made herself look very serious when she said, “Just don’t fall in love with him.”

Adam laughed, his shoulders sinking down as the tension left him.

Barbara grinned, kissing her husband’s hand again before letting it go.

“Okay,” Adam said when he was done laughing, “let’s talk about a threesome with a demon.”


	22. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara and Adam have a very bad, no-good, terrible (but weirdly sexy) idea. They need to check in with each other and their friends to see if they're on the right path.

Barbara and Adam weren’t people who dove headfirst into new experiences. One of the last times they’d decided they were ready to take a next step, they’d died tragically.

But having a sexual relationship with an amoral, shapeshifting demon that could warp reality wasn’t something to rush into.

Adam was the man with the plan. He found the websites about how to open up a marriage to a casual relationship, he downloaded the books, and he printed off the checklists. They made three lists: the hard-no list, the do-with-Beetlejuice list, and the do-together list. They’d gone through a _Fifty Shades of Grey_ phase in their late 20s, so this process wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to them.

It led to some really fun times in the bedroom.

A few months into this exploration, Barbara said, “I think we need an outsider’s perspective.” Part of Barbara kept waiting for the other shoe to drop regarding Beetlejuice: He’d pull a prank that went too far. He’d hurt Maitland, accidentally or on purpose. He’d do something horrible to Lydia in retaliation for breaking his heart.

Instead, their demon remained at a steady level of goodness. He wasn’t kind, he wasn’t considerate, and he wasn’t a functional adult by any means. But he was so much better than when he’d started. More and more, she'd look at him and imagine him, her and Adam together. What he'd feel like, what he'd say, what he'd do.

The three of them could work. Maybe. Hopefully.

Unless this was a _folie à deux_ , a product of disordered thinking that she and Adam weren't even aware of.

“An outsider’s perspective would be good,” Adam said.

“Besides, if the three of us happens, it’s not like he’s going to be able to keep it a secret. Better get the judgement out of the way now.”

Delia was the natural next step. She happily welcomed them into her office. They’d had a few couples counselling sessions over the years, just to fine-tune their communication and make sure they were getting their needs met. There was a pleasant sandalwood incense in the air.

A few years ago, Delia had declared she wouldn’t put any more toxins in or on her body. She stopped dyeing her hair and using Botox, so she now had grey streaks in her red hair and visible crow’s feet. All her clothes were made by local creators, to cut down on her carbon footprint, including the simple black shift dress she wore today. (Lydia’s many rants about Charles and Delia’s consumerist lifestyle might have contributed to those changes.) But she still loved jewellery, and currently wore a necklace of unpolished chunks of turquoise alternating with amber.

Every time Barbara saw her lately, she wondered if she would’ve aged that well.

They sat on the sleek modern couch across from her, while Delia sat in the chair opposite them, their file on her lap. It helped Delia to keep her semi-professional life distinct from her personal life.

After some hemming and hawing, Barbara brought up the reason for their visit. “We’re thinking about—” the words stuck in her throat for just a moment “—opening up our relationship for something, ah, casual and...sexual.” _Jesus, if you're there, I'm sorry!_

Delia looked surprised, but not terribly so and only momentarily. “I thought this might come up. So, what were you thinking of?”

Barbara and Adam had agonized over this for months, and Delia had accepted them just like that. She felt such a rush of love that she blurted out, “Can I hug you?” It was unprofessional to ask, but Delia wasn’t just their therapist.

Smiling, Delia stood, arms open. “Of course, my darling.”

Barbara hugged Delia. The older woman hugged her back tightly, heedless of how cold she was. She gave great hugs, just like Barbara’s own mother. _What would Delia have been to me if Adam and I had stayed alive? Would we even have met?_

“We worried we were going crazy,” Barbara explained. “Stuck in this house all the time, just the two of us....”

“We used to be this nice, monogamous, Christian couple,” Adam explained, a bit sheepish. “We’re still not sure what happened to us.”

Delia stepped out of the hug, patting Barbara’s cheek before she returned to her seat. “Ah, yes, shame pops up like a little gopher. Whack that shame gopher and send it back in its sad little hole!” She mimed smacking a creature’s head. “Desires can change over time, my dears. Yours might even have changed without your unique circumstances.”

As Barbara sat back down, Delia matter-of-factly continued. “So, Charles and I have wondered if this situation was going to come up. We're not exactly strangers to the swinger lifestyle. Would you like me to bring him in to discuss further?”

It was then that Barbara realized she hadn’t specified who she and Adam would be having this casual sexual relationship with. Delia clearly had a different idea than the Maitlands. 

_Delia and Charles. Delia and Charles?!_

Barbara bolted back to her feet, pasting a smile on her face. “Um, can you give me and Adam a sec, please?”

Delia barely had time to say a concerned, “Of course,” before she and Adam had phased through the office door. They quickly headed to their room.

“Delia and Charles,” Adam said wonderingly.

“That makes so much more sense than whatever we were thinking of with a demon.”

“A literal demon! Who sexually assaulted us when we’d just died! If we ask him for something casual now, we just validate how he treated us years ago!”

“I didn’t even think of that. Argh, we have too much time on our hands these days! Bad ideas keep festering.”

“And they’re an attractive couple!” Adam paused. “And Delia does so much yoga! She’s got to be flexible.”

“And Charles is a silver fox. Being with them would be a new experience. We need new experiences now that we’re dead!”

“We do!”

“And....” Barbara paused. “And we’ve absolutely never thought of them sexually. Not once. We’ve only been talking about Beetlejuice.”

Adam nodded. He ran his hand through his hair. “And if things go south, we’d have to see the Deetzes every day while we parent our child together.”

“Eeek.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean,” Barbara said, “if Maitland were in university or college...maybe?”

“That’s something we could revisit,” Adam said. “They really talk about us like that?” He looked torn between pride and confusion.

Thinking back on the times she’d heard the Deetzes making love while she and Adam pretended to sleep, Barbara said, “They’re a very sensual couple.” She tried to imagine kissing Charles, but it did nothing for her. Her feelings for Delia and Charles were closer to feelings she had for Chrissy than anything romantic or sexual.

“So,” Adam said, “we’re committed to Beetlejuice?”

“God help us, yes. It’s probably a horrible mistake, but it’s our mistake to make together.”

“And now we have to go tell Delia.”

Barbara wished she didn’t have to, but she nodded, holding Adam’s hand as she gathered her strength.

They phased through Delia’s office door a few moments later. Delia looked up from her phone when they entered, slipping it into her purse. “You weren’t talking about me and Charles, were you?” She didn’t seem offended or embarrassed, just gently curious.

“No,” Barbara said as she and Adam sat down. “We were talking about—” she shared a glance with Adam “—Beetlejuice.”

“That's going to be an adventure, isn't it?” Delia said lightly.

"We're so flattered that you want to, um, swing with us, though. Thank you!”

“And it’s more of a favour to us than you realize,” Adam said. “Everything about us is cold. Everything that, ah, comes out of us.”

Barbara nodded. “Which took us months to get used to! Never become a ghost, Delia.”

“Charles and I have talked about that, as well. We’re not sure what we’re going to do if we die. I know he wants to go to the Netherworld and find Emily, but he’s also mentioned staying in the realm of the living until Lydia and Maitland pass. Hopefully, it won’t come up soon.”

“It’s just...we’ve never really thought of you two that way,” Barbara said. “And if something happens and Beetlejuice stops being our friend, we’ll all be okay. He and Lydia are going to make up, I’m sure. And people can see him now. He can make tons of friends if he wanted to.

“If the four of us had to take a break....” Barbara shook her head. “You two are so important to us.”

“I understand, my darlings, and thank you." Whatever Delia was really thinking about the Maitlands turning her down in favour of a smelly demon, she wasn't showing. "You’re important to Charles and myself, as well! Now, back to Beetlejuice. How do you feel about opening up your relationship to him sexually?”

“Intrigued,” Barbara said, which is a word she and Adam had used often to describe their feelings. Was it an appropriate word? Perhaps they should’ve chosen something like ‘enthusiastic’ or ‘excited.’

“Adam?” Delia asked. She knew from experience that Adam would usually keep silent unless asked a direct question.

“Nervous,” he said, worry scrunching his brows together. “But also intrigued.”

“Am I correct in assuming that neither of you have had a casual relationship before?”

“Yes. We came to you to see if you had some tips about that.”

“It takes work, darlings, particularly when all you know is standard dating. There’s a certain amount of emotional unavailability you need to cultivate. No presents, no long talks, no getting involved in his personal life.”

Barbara and Adam shared a concerned glance. “Oh,” she said quietly. It seemed they’d already violated the final rule, at the very least.

“Not that I’m trying to dissuade you, but I want you two to recognize that your lives aren’t set up for casual: You live in the same house. You see each other every day. You have a common friend group. You literally can’t leave the house without him.”

Barbara focused her energies on a prayer plant on Lydia’s desk. At her prompting, it grew a bit larger, wriggling its leaves, and it remained bigger when she stopped focusing on it. “I’m working on that.”

Delia eyed her plant for a few moments. “That’s...good? Will plants stop sandworms?”

“Um, not exactly. Maybe in a few decades.”

“It’s Beetlejuice who brought up keeping things casual,” Adam said. “He’s still dealing with his feelings for Lydia.”

Delia nodded a few times before saying, “And if we acknowledge that Beetlejuice doesn’t have perfect emotional regulation? We were all here when he proposed to a woman he wasn’t even dating.”

Barbara had a sudden vision of Beetlejuice proposing to Adam, and shook her head to clear it. “Well, he and Lydia are a special case. They’re best friends; they have so much in common. Beetlejuice can’t go five minutes without insulting us. We’re very different people.”

“And that’s what it takes to fall in love? Having things in common?”

In love? Barbara opened her mouth to protest that that would never happen, but the phrase _opposites attract_ flashed through her mind. She couldn’t get the words out.

Adam glanced at Barbara, alarmed. They’d talked often about their emotional needs, both as individuals and as a couple, but they hadn’t really considered Beetlejuice's. 

“We’d let him down easily, of course,” Barbara said. “If that’s possible.” The more she thought, the more uncertain she got. She’d just gotten used to having a fun, probably-regrettable night with the demon. But she hadn’t expected this level of complication.

“Of course,” Adam said, patting Barbara’s hand.

“But I’m sure it’s not going to happen,” she added.

Adam sighed, rubbing at his temple.

“Everything okay, sweetie?” she asked, squeezing his shoulders.

“Sometimes, I worry we expect too much of him,” Adam said. “He’s not just a gross roommate with some rage issues. If he’s to be believed, he was alone for centuries. And he’s a demon! He was human once, but not anymore. And our judgement might be particularly clouded.” To Delia, he said, “In your professional opinion, as his therapist, would it...psychologically scar him if we had a sexual relationship with him?”

Delia’s lips twitched; eventually, she couldn’t contain her smile. “Oh, my sweet Maitlands. I do not, in _any_ way, think sex with the two of you would destroy him. Even you turning him down romantically wouldn’t. I make no guarantees, of course, but it might build his resilience. Don’t forget, he has more of a support circle than he ever did.

“Does part of me wish he were more self-actualized? Of course. I want to keep all my clients safe in a nest while I feed them what will nourish their souls. But birds were meant to fly, and the real world will not wait!

“In fact, I’ll admit I'm concerned about the two of you. He’s such a forceful personality, and you’re both so...accommodating. Check in with each other, won’t you? Make sure you’re getting your needs met. And don’t hesitate to tell him, unequivocally, ‘No.’

“I find, sometimes, it’s helpful to write down your thoughts. Do either of you journal?”

They didn’t, and Delia was happy to present them with two journals. They thanked Delia and put them in their room.

Barbara left Delia’s office more confused than she went in. “So. Um. Beetlejuice wanting to be our boyfriend.” _God, it sounds weird._ “Do we want to risk it?”

“I have no idea.”

There was a crash from the kitchen below.

“Wasn’t me!” Beetlejuice shouted. He didn’t need to do that. He could’ve just vanished. Or vanished whatever he’d knocked over (or thrown to the ground). Or put things back without saying anything. But why would that bottomless black hole of need and attention-seeking ever do that?

“We don’t have to proposition him right away,” Adam said slowly.

“Right! Let’s sleep on it.”

Another crash sounded. “It’s the clones!” Beetlejuice added. “Gary! Seriously?!”

Barbara muttered, “Let’s sleep on it a few hundred times.”

They went downstairs to control whatever chaos their demon had unleashed.


	23. Dear Diary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara works on her journaling as the months pass. She reflects on Lydia asking her for some surprising advice; the three ghosts visiting two significant graves; and, finally, Barbara and Adam putting the moves on Beetlejuice.

> _October 29, 2032_
> 
> _Dear Diary,_
> 
> _Lydia wanted to speak to me privately tonight. That was the moment I realized you never stop being a parent—even if you are just a ghost mom who sort of adopted someone when they were 15._
> 
> _Of course, I said yes. Lydia may have made some questionable decisions involving a certain demon, but she’s still my little girl._

“This conversation is going to be incredibly awkward for me, but that’s my fault,” Lydia said. She was sitting on her couch in her apartment. Her phone’s screen showed her drinking tea from a mug shaped like a skull.

“How so?” Barbara was sitting on the bed in her bedroom. The rest of the house was quiet. Adam was playing chess with Maitland in the living room, Charles was working late on a project, and Delia was in her office meditating.

“After completely disobeying you on the whole ‘evil plan’ thing, I have to come to you for—” Lydia ran a hand through her ragged black bob “—um, romantic advice.”

Barbara was momentarily startled. She’d been operating on the assumption that Lydia was aromantic as well as asexual. _Then again, labels can change over time._ “Oh! I’m flattered, Lydia, but just to warn you, the last date I went on was back in the early 2000s. I’m a practically a dinosaur! I’m sure Claire could—”

_Unless Lydia can’t go to her best friend for advice because she wants advice about Claire!_

“—Oh,” Barbara realized. For the first time in a long time, she felt useful. This was like talking about boy problems with her friends back when she was alive.

Lydia sighed, picking at her chipped black nail polish. “Yeah. Claire. I’m sure you noticed we’ve been hanging out more. Well, lately, I’ve been…feeling things.” She scowled. “Blushing, laughing way too much at her jokes, wanting to watch her all the time.

“It’s exactly what Beetlejuice was like before he proposed the second time.”

“Lydia, you’re nothing like Beetlejuice.” A joke came to mind. Barbara hesitated. Was it too edgy? Then again, Lydia appreciated a little bite to her humour.... “I mean, unless you’ve already bought a ring.”

A genuine smile flitted across Lydia’s face.

“You’re a mature, courageous young woman who knows what she wants—”

“Not in love! I don’t know the first thing about it. I thought I was aromantic until a few weeks ago. Why would Claire want some 27-year-old who’s never even dated before? I’d be like dating a teenager. And I don’t even know if she’s comfortable dating an asexual.”

“Claire knows you’re asexual and you haven’t dated before. Maybe she’ll surprise you by being interested.”

“And what if she is? What if we break up and Claire stops being my friend? I need this friendship. Outside of my family and Beetlejuice—if we’re still friends these days—she’s all I have. There aren’t a lot of people who really get me, not like Claire does.”

Barbara nodded. “You’re right, Claire could break up with you. I wish I could say that won’t happen.

“But Claire could also agree to be your girlfriend. I want you to try to see both futures clearly in your mind, instead of just assuming only one future is going to happen. Maybe write out a pros and cons list—”

Lydia gave a theatrical groan, but a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth.

“Hey, you asked for my advice, so you get to deal with how square it is, young lady!” Barbara said, grinning. She’d missed talking to Lydia like friends. It was as if her evil plan with Beetlejuice had never existed.

“Okay, okay, pros and cons list.” Lydia’s expression grew thoughtful. “I’ve been on my own for so long. I’m not sure what it means to share my life, even just my physical space, with someone.”

“It’s definitely an adjustment,” Barbara said. You bumped up against so many unspoken rules when you first started living with someone. “It takes a lot of conversations. When we were just married, Adam and I had our first argument about how long you could wear socks for. Two days, we determined.”

Lydia eyed her. “I’m not going to tell you how long I’ve been wearing my gravestone socks, then. You know, my loner ways are probably why I was such close friends with our demon. He’ll drop in and out, but he’s never really a deep, intimate part of anything, you know? He’s just my funny, wacky friend that’ll never die. I’m not going to say this separation is for the best, but...it’s given me a lot to think about.”

Barbara surprised herself with an instinct to defend Beetlejuice. “He tries more these days, mostly with Maitland and Delia. It’s hard, and often not very successful, but he tries. I think he’s working his way up to talking to you again.

“But, anyway, back to Claire. If I can be even more corny: look at the situation with your head, but trust your heart. There’s nothing wrong with more love in the world. You and I both know how quickly life can change. Why not take a chance on happiness when you can?”

“At least you didn’t break into song like a Disney princess. Thanks, Barbara. For everything.”

“You’re welcome. And, believe me, I know how scary it is to make the first move. My palms were sweating so hard when I asked Adam out, and my mouth was so dry I could barely talk!”

“Good to know it’s not just me. Mind if I say hi to the family?”

Barbara brought the phone around so Lydia could say hi to everyone. Unfortunately, Beetlejuice was hovering over the chess board Adam and Maitland were playing at. As Lydia commented on Adam and Maitland’s game, he hovered anxiously, fiddling with his tie.

There was an expectant pause, filled by Lydia. “Hey, Beej.”

“Hey, Lyds.” His gaze darted back and forth. “Um. Have a good chat with Babs?” His tie seemed to keep growing the more he fiddled with it.

“We did. So, how have you been?”

“Good!” Somehow, his fingers were getting tangled up in his tie.

Barbara tried to angle the phone so that the camera only saw Beetlejuice’s face.

“I heard you’ve been pranking Dad.”

“Heh, yeah. That’s been fun! Well, fun for me. And nobody died if, you know, if you’re worried.” His hands were now completely covered in black cloth.

“I’m not.”

That surprised him. “Oh.” He cleared his throat and examined his hands. He tried to pull his hands out of his tie, but only succeeded in choking himself.

“You’re not into pranking Delia?”

His eyebrows rose. “Jesus, Lyds, she’s my shrink! She could emotionally nuke me way too easy.” He kept fighting against his tie, which squeezed his hands even tighter.

“Right, I didn’t think of that.” Lydia sounded a little disappointed. Barbara wasn’t about to step into the complicated relationship Lydia had with her stepmother.

“But, I mean,” Beetlejuice said, “if someone else wanted to prank her and needed a distraction....”

Lydia gave Beetlejuice her cool half-smile. Beetlejuice smiled back, relaxing slightly (except for his tie). This might have been the first smile they’d shared since his marriage proposal. “We can talk about this another time. Anyway, Maity, did you get that solo you wanted?”

Barbara quickly moved the phone to Maitland, who said, “It went to Sophia, but I’m not upset.” And they seemed like they weren’t, even though they’d worked for weeks on their audition for lead soloist in their youth choir. Barbara had mentioned to them that it was okay to feel disappointed, but Maitland seemed determined to feel nothing at all. She worried about them repressing their feelings.

“Oh, wait,” Beetlejuice realized. He vanished his tie from around his hands, returning it to around his neck a second later. “I’m a ghost. Duh.” He poofed out of the room, leaving Lydia chatting with Maitland and Adam.

> _I’m not too worried about Beetlejuice and Lydia. They’ll be friends again before they know it._
> 
> _My chat with Lydia made me think of her mother, Emily. Her presence has always been between Lydia and me. Not in a bad way. But I’ll always know Lydia will compare anything I say to what Emily would have said. It’s just how things are. Sometimes, a girl just needs her mother._
> 
> _I might get to meet Emily some day. I hope she approves of what I said._
> 
> _Best regards,_
> 
> _Barbara Maitland_

* * *

> _November 8, 2032_
> 
> _Dear Diary,_
> 
> _Since we died, we’ve focused a lot on my family. Today, Adam and I decided to revive an old tradition and visit his family. Surprisingly, Beetlejuice was on his best behaviour—though we still had to teach him a lesson or two._

Beetlejuice teleported them exactly where they’d asked him to: by the gravestones of William Maitland (1956-2011) and Veronica Maitland (1962-2011).

Beetlejuice was wearing a plinth helmet, jungle exploring gear and carrying a rifle. “We’re deep in sandworm territory!” He began stalking through the graves. “Come out, come out, wherever you are....”

A gust of wind blew fresh snow through Barbara and Adam. She held her husband’s hand loosely, just enough to let him know she was there if he wanted to talk. Usually, he’d say something hours after the visit.

So she watched him, saw his shoulders rise with tension, saw his lips part but no words follow, saw his eyes grow wet with tears. Three sandworms arrived, heads bared, and Beetlejuice cheerfully shot at them. He’d dispatched one when Adam called out, “I’m ready!”

Despite how little Beetlejuice claimed to care about sandworms, the ghosts were back in the living room an instant later.

Adam pulled her into an unexpected hug, burying his face in her shoulder. He hadn’t been this demonstrative since the night after William and Veronica’s funeral. Barbara stroked his back and kissed his cheek.

“I just kept thinking of the Netherworld,” Adam whispered roughly. His body tensed as he sobbed. “All the good they did, and they’re there? If anyone deserved to move on to someplace better....”

“I know, it’s not fair. They were such kind people.” Unless you were different. Barbara suspected they were the main reason Adam hadn’t come out as bisexual until after his death. And Veronica had constantly pressured Barbara about getting pregnant.

They were flawed humans, and their son would always miss them.

Adam wiped his eyes, then rested his forehead against hers. “If you hadn’t been there when I got the call, I don’t.... I mean, I think I might have...joined them.”

Barbara tried not to look as startled as she felt. He’d never said this before. “Adam....”

He kissed her, hard but brief, on the lips. “Thank you.”

“You’re—you’re welcome.” She’d done what anyone would have: taken care of the funeral arrangements, held him when he cried, helped him get through each day. It hadn’t been anything special. Looking back on it, there were more things she could have done. How much had she tried to keep Veronica and William’s memories alive?

“How’d they die?” Beetlejuice asked. He was floating in his usual outfit, examining his nails as a spider crawled along his shoulder.

Adam pulled away from Barbara, blinking. Barbara had forgotten he was there.

While Adam composed himself, she said, “They were in a car accident. They swerved to avoid something on the bridge and fell into the river.”

“Oh, like the movie. Wow, this author’s real original.”

“What...?”

“Nevermind. Man, sucks that they died by drowning. In the Netherworld, they’re gonna be all bloated and shit. And the dripping, ugh! I hate the dripping! That’s why I never boned anyone from the Titanic.”

Adam glared at him.

Beetlejuice actually seemed to realize he might be on thin ice. He raised his hands placatingly. “Um, but, hey, that’s just me. You’ll get used to it, I’m sure.”

“We won’t be going there for a while,” Barbara said. Adam and Barbara had determined long ago that they wouldn’t pass on until Lydia and Maitland had, at least.

“I wouldn’t mind putting some flowers on their graves,” Adam said.

Beetlejuice snorted. “They’re dead. Who gives a shit about flowers? It’s not like anyone in the Netherworld cares.” He created a little hand puppet that was checking a tiny smartphone. “‘Ooo, just got a notification that my kid dropped off some petunias,’” the puppet said in a raspy falsetto. “’Sure would be nice to have flowers in an empty, endless void of nothingness.’” The hand-puppet sighed, slumping over, before Beetlejuice made it disappear.

“You’re right, it is pretty silly,” Adam admitted. “But it’s more for me than them, buddy. What do flowers cost these days? $20? $40? Maybe I’ll ask Charles or Delia if they can pick up a small—”

Suddenly, two $20s were in Beetlejuice’s hand. “Ask? Why do we have to ask? Chuck’s so rich, he’s never gonna notice some missing moolah.”

Barbara and Adam sighed simultaneously.

“I’ve got this,” Barbara said. “You go—”

“It’s okay, my love.” He kissed her temple. “Let’s get through it together.”

> _So then we had to explain that stealing is still stealing even if someone won’t notice it. I don’t think Beetlejuice really grasped the concept, but Adam seemed happy to focus on something else for a while._
> 
> _Delia said we didn’t have to show each other our diaries, but we wanted to go into this experiment with Beetlejuice with no secrets._
> 
> _Thank you for trusting me with one of yours, Adam. I didn’t know things were that bad. I wish you’d told me at the time, but I understand why you didn’t. It’s so hard to talk about these things._
> 
> _I only wish I could have done more to take away your pain and grief._
> 
> _You are my heart and my soul._
> 
> _Barbara Maitland_

* * *

> _December 20, 2032_
> 
> _Dear Diary,_
> 
> _This is going to be a much more pleasant entry! (Will I look back on that and cringe? Maybe!)_
> 
> _Adam and I did it. We asked Beetlejuice if he’d like to join us in the bedroom. The Deetzes are visiting Delia’s parents in Arizona for Christmas and staying for two weeks. One of those days would be perfect for our little ménage a trois._
> 
> _We broached the subject with Beetlejuice after family board game night._

_Ticket to Ride_ —a game where you tried to build the longest train track across a map of the United States—became much more interesting when Beetlejuice played it.

Actual trains appeared on the tracks. Picking up certain cards meant a train crash, which led to little fires spreading across the board. War broke out in cities, with little faceless grey people collapsing and becoming graves. A nuclear explosion happened when Beetlejuice started getting bored. Zombies rose from the graves, attacking train tracks.

Charles, who sometimes got overly competitive during family game night, had the hardest time accepting that there wouldn’t be a winner in the traditional sense. “But I’ve still got the longest train track,” he argued.

“But you’re going through the irradiated zone,” Maitland said, tapping the green swamp that was the west coast of the United States. “All the people on your trains now have radiation poisoning.”

“That’s _not_ a rule! The demon just made it up!”

Delia shrugged helplessly. “Most of my track got flooded when Cthulu took out the east coast.” A squid-headed green creature was swimming through the Atlantic ocean.

“That—that—” Charles spluttered.

“Good game, everyone!” Delia said brightly. They began packing the board game away.

The game poofed out of everyone’s hands and was tucked neatly back into the game shelf. This startled Barbara enough to stare at Beetlejuice, who bowed. “You’re welcome, losers!”

Usually, you could never find Beetlejuice when something needed to be set up or cleaned up. _Although_ _there was that time a bunch of bats help us decorate for Christmas in ’25. I guess that counts as setting up?_

“Did you actually put the pieces away properly, or did you just shove everything in the box?” Adam asked.

Beetlejuice became a stripey jack-in-the-box, which played a cheerful tune until a hand sprang out with its middle finger raised. Adam sighed, went to the games shelf, and began organizing the pieces and cards. The jack-in-the-box poofed away, probably to the basement. The Deetzes and Barbara were happy to organize _Ticket to Ride_ with Adam.

As the Deetzes got ready for bed, she and Adam shared a look.

“Tonight?” Adam asked.

“Sure. Why not?”

They went downstairs and knocked on the junk room door.

Beetlejuice poked his head out. “What’s up?”

“Do you have a second?”

Beetlejuice scowled. “What did I do?! I haven’t caused even one traffic accident or heart attack!”

They did tend to talk to Beetlejuice only when he’d done something wrong, didn’t they? “You haven’t done anything wrong.” On a sudden whim, she said, “Would you like to...?” and held her hand out to Beetlejuice and Adam.

They hadn’t felt close to alive in months. She and Adam had been so good, talking and reflecting and journaling. It was time to be bad.

“Oh, sure!” Adam said cheerfully.

Beetlejuice eyed the two of them. “I’m gonna hit on you. You know that, right?”

“It’s nothing we haven’t heard before.”

Beetlejuice shrugged, and all three of them held hands. Adam giggled. Beetlejuice grinned, his teeth going pointy. Barbara began running her thumb up and down Adam’s palm, moving closer to him.

“Can almost feel my heart beat,” Beetlejuice commented after a while.

“How long has it been since you were alive?” Adam asked. “The first time, I mean.”

“No backstory. Well, actually,” he leered, “I’ll tell you for a kiss.”

Adam’s gaze flicked to Barbara. She shrugged and tilted her head slightly toward Beetlejuice, a nonverbal _Go ahead_.

Adam kissed Beetlejuice’s forehead. Beetlejuice flinched in surprise, but when Adam pulled back, he snorted. “Not that kind of kiss, nerd.”

So Adam kissed him on the mouth. Barbara felt no surge of jealousy or panic, as she’d worried she might. She’d seen him kiss Beetlejuice before, after all. It probably helped that it wasn’t a hot, passionate kiss.

Adam squeezed Barbara’s hand, a nonverbal check-in they’d agreed on, and she squeezed back. All was well.

For a few moments, Beetlejuice didn’t move. Then he dropped Barbara and Adam’s hands to lunge at Adam, pawing at his hair with one hand and pulling his shirt with the other, deepening the kiss.

Two suspiciously narrowed eyes appeared on the back of Beetlejuice’s head, focused on Barbara. Surprised, Barbara waved at them. They blinked back at her.

“Sorry,” said Beetlejuice’s disembodied voice as the eyes vanished. “Had to make sure you weren’t prepping the Hades Touch spell.”

“Ah. You think this is another trick,” Barbara realized.

“It was last time!”

“When you were evil, yes,” came Adam’s disembodied voice. He was stroking Beetlejuice’s beard, his movements simple and efficient compared to the demon’s messy flailing.

Adam broke the kiss. “Now, what’s the answer to my question?”

“Huh?”

“You said you’d tell me how long it’s been since you were alive the first time if I kissed you. So?”

“Um...three millennia.”

Barbara cleared her throat. “Is that the truth?”

Beetlejuice startled, as if he’d forgotten she was there. He glanced between her and Adam, then at her and Adam’s linked hands, before turning his attention back to her face. (Eventually. He had to ogle her breasts a bit first.) “Not trusting me is usually a good instinct.

“Soooo.” He floated over to her. “Babs. Baby. Sweetheart. Any facts you want to know about me? I take payment in kisses, groping, making out—”

“Not really. Adam’s the puzzle solver in our relationship. If you want to keep your past a mystery, that’s fine by me. I’d kiss you without making a deal, though, if you want me to.”

Beetlejuice’s jaw literally dropped off of his face. It took him a few fumbling moments to reattach it. Once he did, he started sputtering, “What—? If. I. Want. You. **_IF_**?! Why—I—"

After years of tricks, pranks, and Beetlejuice’s smug superiority, finally she was the one breaking his brain. It felt pretty good. Barbara smirked.

“I need to hear you say yes, Beetlejuice.” She might as well make this a teaching moment. “That’s an important part of consent. You need to say—”

“Yes!”

After a glance at Adam and his affirming nod, she kissed Beetlejuice. As expected, he pressed up against her. He felt so different from her husband: his lips chapped, his body fleshy and round instead of Adam’s leanness, and his hands scrambling in her hair, then her cheek, then her throat.

She reached up, gently stroking his hair, breaking her connection with Adam to rest her hand on Beetlejuice’s shoulder. The demon groaned and his tongue roughly slid into her mouth. Suddenly, his tongue nipped hers. Had it grown teeth? She broke the kiss to see a black-and-white striped snake where his tongue had been.

“You are so weird,” was all she could think of to say.

His tongue became normal as he said, “Aw, you like it.” He looked back at Adam. “Seriously, pal, no lies—I’ll tell you how I died the first time if you suck my dick.”

Adam patted Beetlejuice’s cheek. “The Deetzes _are_ leaving the house tomorrow. That’s a good time for us to have that casual hookup you mentioned a while back. We can have a fun night.”

“Oh, shit! You’ve been thinking about this for a while, huh?”

“We have,” Barbara said. She played with the ends of Beetlejuice’s hair as she spoke. “We have a few conditions, though. Firstly, we all have to practice enthusiastic consent. Secondly, we’d like you to clean up. Take a shower, brush your teeth—”

“Clean my ass?”

Barbara probably would have blushed if she’d had any blood. “Yes. And if we all have fun, we can see about repeating this threesome. But, if we decide to make this a regular thing, you can’t commit any evil acts. We’re not saying you need to be perfect—we’re certainly not!—but no fighting, no hurting Maitland’s feelings intentionally, no pranking Charles’s office in a way that hurts anyone. And no killing, obviously.”

He beamed between her and Adam, pulling them close and hovering between them. “Of course!”

He’d agreed much faster than she’d expected. “You’re sure?”

“I’ve had blue balls for 23 chapters! Let’s get this show on the road. Give those thirsty readers what they want! Such as a quickie right now. C’mon, guys, just a little appetizer? A little taste?”

“Nope,” Barbara said, kissing the demon’s cheek.

“We don’t want to wake anyone up,” Adam added. “They’ve got a lot of travelling to do tomorrow.”

“And you don’t want the breathers to know,” Beetlejuice realized.

To stop tempting him, Barbara stepped away. “Some people want to keep their sex lives private.”

“Especially with bug-infested demons that smell like ass.” He shot finger guns at her. “I getcha. Hey, I’m cool being your dirty little secret. Makes it hotter. So hot that one of you should just gimme a handjob, hmm? C’mon. I’ll be quiet, honest!”

Adam chuckled. “Now that’s definitely a lie, bud.”

“Some over-the-clothes action?”

“Still no.”

“Just let me dry hump you? I will not be long at all.”

“Tomorrow, Beetlejuice. When the Deetzes are gone.”

Beetlejuice looked like he was going to protest, but he hesitated. After a moment’s thought, he nodded, grinning.

“Tomorrow. Okay. Tomorrow. Oh, fuck, there’s an _Annie_ joke somewhere in there but I’m too horny to get it. Argh, her song even has the word ‘come’ in it! Jesus. Anyway.” He kissed Adam then Barbara on the cheek. “See you tomorrow, then!” He floated above them, hugging himself. “I just knew when we met that we’d be friends!” He poofed back into his room after that.

As she and Adam walked upstairs, Barbara commented, “So...it’s happening.”

“It’s happening.”

She held out a fist for a fist-bump. “Maitlands 2.0!”

“Er, this feels like we’ve moved beyond 2.0. 3.0, maybe?”

“Maitlands 3.0!”

He fist-bumped her and they both mimed explosions.

“God, I hope this isn’t a huge mistake.”

“Me too.”

> _It’s going to be ~~terrifying interesting hot totally WTF a huge mistake~~ an adventure!_
> 
> _Barbara_


	24. Adam and Beetlejuice Bone in This Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beetlejuice and the Maitlands have a few communication difficulties, but, all in all, the threesome gets off to a good start.
> 
> Until the end.

Barbara and Adam had coordinated their alarm with the Deetzes. The family got up at 6:45 AM. When Barbara didn’t here shuffling from their bedrooms even though everyone’s alarms had gone off, she shared a concerned look with Adam. They teleported to the living room to see what was going on.

Charles, Delia and Maitland came in from the front door, each wearing a bizarre assortment of clothes. Charles had a suit jacket on over his pyjama top, Delia wore mismatched shoes and looked like she’d put on her makeup blindfolded, and Maitland was wearing their parka.

“Demon!” Charles snapped. “You didn’t even put my bags in the car!”

“Uncle, we’re going to Arizona. I hardly need my winter wear.”

Beetlejuice poofed into the foyer, glaring at them. “ARGH! You breathers and your STUPID NEEDS! FINE!” He paced in the air as the Deetzes used the washroom, brushed their teeth, and got changed.

Barbara and Adam hugged Maitland when they came back down. They’d been experimenting with colour lately, and wore yellow jeans with a neon green button-up shirt with navy blue buttons. It wasn’t Barbara’s favourite colour palette, but what was childhood without a regrettable wardrobe choice? She’d gone through a wolf sweater phase in Grade 6. _Or maybe Maitland is perfectly fashionable and I’m just out of touch._

“Have fun with your grandparents, Maity. Take lots of photos!”

“I will. Goodbye, Barbara and Adam.” Once, they would’ve said ‘Mommy Barbara and Papa Adam.’ Time was flying by way too quickly. “Goodbye, Uncle.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hurry up, kid!”

Maitland looked confused, but did as they were told.

Delia came down and hugged Barbara and Adam briefly. Glancing up at Beetlejuice, she said, “Have fun, my dears.”

Beetlejuice’s lewd chuckle was interrupted by Charles carrying his luggage down the stairs, glowering at the demon. Beetlejuice glowered back, then touched Delia and Charles’s heads. Delia, Charles, his luggage, and Beetlejuice vanished. Barbara looked out the living room window to see Charles and Delia in the car. Hopefully, Charles’s luggage was in the trunk. Charles was clearly thinking the same thing: he opened up the trunk and double-checked.

Beetlejuice exchanged a few words with Charles—probably an insult of some kind—before floating back into the house.

“I could probably just teleport them to the airport...” Beetlejuice realized.

“No,” Adam said quickly.

Beetlejuice’s reply was an irritated grunt.

Finally, the Deetzes were ready to go. Barbara, Adam and Beetlejuice waved at them as they pulled out of the driveway.

“YES!” Beetlejuice’s eyes glowed Netherworld green, his teeth becoming fangs.

“Whatever’s happening next is going to be in the bedroom,” Adam said quickly.

Beetlejuice grabbed their arms and teleported them into the bedroom. He breathed in Barbara and Adam’s faces, showing off his pepperminty breath. Barbara had heard the shower running in Maitland’s bathroom before the alarm went off, so he’d fulfilled that part of the condition, too.

“Thank you, Beetlejuice,” she said, patting his cheek.

“No, thank you guys!” He hovered above them, gesturing broadly, his hands flappier than normal. “Finally, some delicious fucking content! It’s time to kink this fic up a notch!”

Adam blinked. “What now?”

“We’re rated E, baby! And I know you guys. You could have your usual vanilla bullshit with each other. You’re here for something strange and unusual. So, kiddos, what’s on the menu? Vore?”

Beetlejuice poofed into himself on a plate with lettuce underneath him, an apple in his mouth.

“Tentacles?”

He poofed into a series of giant striped tentacles.

“Knife-play?”

He poofed into himself in his usual striped suit, holding out two bloody razors. Ominous piano music sounded from somewhere: the opening bars of _Sweeney Todd_.

“Age-play?”

He poofed into a sailor suit, braces on his teeth and holding a large black-and-white lollipop. Adam’s head sank into his hands. Barbara ground her teeth, rigid with disgust.

“Puppy-play?”

He poofed into a Beetlejuice with Beetle-Dog’s ears and tail, and a collar with jingling tags around his neck.

“Golden showers?”

He poofed into himself taking a shower, soap bubbles covering anything inappropriate. Not that this mattered much when he was showering in urine. Barbara gagged.

“Beetlejuice!” Adam moaned.

“What? This shit is out there and it’s valid. I don’t kink-shame, guys.”

“Go take a shower!” Barbara managed. “A real one! With water and soap.”

“Babs, it’s just ectoplasm, it’s not real piss....”

“Just do it!”

Scowling, Beetlejuice poofed away. A few minutes later, the shower in the hallway bathroom started running.

“He’s so gross,” Barbara said.

“He ruins everything.”

“We can take it back.”

“Woah, woah!” said a beetle they suddenly noticed at their feet. “Shit, he’s sorry, okay? You’re here for crazy sexy shapeshifting fun, right?”

“Well, yes, but we didn’t need a demonstration of...all that.” Barbara handed the bug their ‘do-with-Beetlejuice’ checklist. “These are the kind of things we’re interested in. And, honestly, I’m not sure I’m up for anything after that.”

The beetle skittered over to the list, hmming every now and then. “‘No bugs in the bedroom,’” it read. “Wow. Rude.”

“Sorry,” Adam said. “We just mean not on us when we’re in the middle of things. If you have to manifest, maybe not on us?”

“I dunno, man. I don’t control that. But I’ll let the boss know.” The beetle skittered off a moment later.

Beetlejuice poofed back into the room. His hair was dark green and clearly wet, but somehow still vertical. He was also wearing Charles’s cologne, so he now smelled like rotting flesh and sandalwood.

“Buggy told me what’s on the list.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Light BDSM stuff at most. Eh. Gimme a sec to adjust my expectations.”

“Sorry,” Adam said.

“I’m not,” Barbara said. “I know it’s not as extreme as what you were hoping for, but that’s what we want. And by the way, our safe word is _Brigadoon_.”

His disappointment vanished, becoming a grin. “Ha! ’The Maitlands, more boring than _Brigadoon_.’ Cute callback, kids.”

“Do you have a safe word?”

He looked offended. “‘Course not, babes. I’m up for anything.”

“But if you did have one, what would it be?”

“I just told you I don’t need one!”

“Please, buddy?” Adam asked. “Just for our peace of mind?”

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes but didn’t keep protesting. A few beetles and centipedes crawled out of his clothes and huddled on his shoulder, whispering among themselves. Finally, one of them whispered something into Beetlejuice’s ear and he burst out giggling.

“ _The Music Man_. Fuck _The Music Man_.” He glanced out into the middle distance, winking at the invisible audience he sometimes acted like he had.

“I’m a bit too grossed out to try anything right now,” Barbara added. She shot Adam a questioning look.

He looked embarrassed as he muttered, “Um, well, he did just take another shower, so, um, I could....” He couldn’t get the words out.

“’Suck a demon’s dick,’” Beetlejuice said in Adam’s voice. “’Call him Daddy. Get pounded until we break the bed.’” In his own voice, he said, “Lotta options there, pal.”

She kissed Adam’s cheek, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You two have fun. I could, um, watch, if that’s okay?” _We should’ve practiced these conversations._ They were fumbling over their words like it was their first time making love.

“Fine by me,” Adam replied, kissing her forehead. “Beetlejuice, would it—”

“Jesus, guys, I just said I’m up for anything! Obviously, yes!”

Barbara sat in the chair by their card table, leaving Beetlejuice hugging Adam, pawing at his hair and nibbling on his ear. An instant later, Adam was completely naked.

“Um, can we slow things down?” Adam asked. At Beetlejuice’s frustrated glare, he explained, “You’re the first person I’ve been with who isn’t Barbara. I just...I need a little romance first.” His clothes appeared back on his body.

Beetlejuice stared at him incredulously. Heaving a loud sigh, he grumbled, “You’re lucky you’re so sexy. Fine! Slooooooowiiiiing. Iiiiiiiiit. Doooooooooown.” He went into slow motion as he reached out for Adam’s face.

Adam chuckled. “Weirdo.” He kissed Beetlejuice gently. The demon eventually forgot the bit he was doing and went back to normal speed. Adam guided them to the bed, taking off his shoes before sitting on the bed. With a snort, Beetlejuice vanished his shoes and socks.

They started making out. Beetlejuice behaved as they’d expected: he was nippy, handsy, and loud. When he started untucking Adam’s shirt after only a few moments of kissing, Adam held his hands gently and directed them back up to his hair.

Barbara checked in with herself. It wasn’t turning her on, but she didn’t hate it. She’d been curious to see what Adam would be like with Beetlejuice. So far, he was on his best behaviour. She and her husband had gotten much raunchier than this.

_It makes sense. We can work our way up to something crazier. Let’s not egg the demon on too much. Our first threesome with a demon, and Adam knew that instinctively! Gosh, he’s so darn smart._

“Blech, so much kissing,” Beetlejuice grumbled.

Adam took the hint and started taking off Beetlejuice’s tie. Beetlejuice’s way of undressing Adam involved him taking an eraser and rubbing it against Adam until he was in his undershirt. Adam blinked for a few moments. At least he didn’t seem in pain.

“You know,” Adam said, “you don’t always have to be manifesting things.”

“Psh. You didn’t ask me to bang you guys ‘cuz you wanted normal.”

“We asked you to join us because we wanted you.” Adam kissed him sweetly as he slid off his jacket.

Beetlejuice pulled away long enough to grumble, “Weird ghost bullshit _is_ me, Sexy.” He looked into Adam’s eyes for a moment, then said, “But—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—I’ll tone it down for you this one time, okay?”

“That’s very sweet, Beetlejuice.” Kissing his cheek, Adam began undoing the buttons of a dress shirt that was more gray than white.

Beetlejuice startled, as if he’d just realized something. Suddenly, his pudgy stomach and drooping pecs became a six-pack and rock-hard pecs.

When Adam raised his eyebrows, Beetlejuice snapped, “What? That’s what I look like without the suit. Always has been.”

“Buddy, I just said we wanted you. That includes what you look like.”

The tips of his hair going red, Beetlejuice crossed his arms over his perfect chest. “Fuck off!”

“We both like your belly,” Barbara added. Of all the issues Beetlejuice had, she hadn’t suspected body image issues.

The demon glared between the two of them. Adam placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Some of the irritation drained from Beetlejuice’s face, but he still grumbled, “Don’t lie to me, assholes.”

“Do you really think we’d be any good at lying?” Adam kissed up and down his neck, continuing to undo the buttons with his hands.

It was probably the kissing that made the hint of red vanish from Beetlejuice’s hair. Beetlejuice grinned, running his fingers through Adam’s hair and squeezing his butt. “Heh. All right.” Glancing at Barbara, he added, “I’ve just had a hard time hitting my goal weight after...you know, the Lyds thing. And maaaaaybe for a few centuries before that,” he added in a mutter.

“We like it,” Barbara said. “It’s sexy.”

Grinning, Beetlejuice opened his mouth to reply, but was distracted by Adam taking both Beetlejuice’s shirt off and his undershirt. He growled, eyes glowing green as he pulled Adam close, running his hands up and down Adam’s bare chest, nipping at his shoulder and neck, manifesting another set of arms to undo Adam’s belt.

This was both fast and involved manifestations, but Adam didn’t have any objections this time. _Horniness will do that to you._

A Beetlejuice clone appeared beside Barbara. He bounced on the balls of his feet excitedly as he eyed the bed. “Woah, nice view!”

Adam’s anxious glance made Barbara lightly say, “It is, isn’t it?” To the clone, she said, “Hello. I’m—”

“Barbara! I know. The boss sent me to make sure you’re taken care of. Can I get you anything? Glass of water? Backrub? My face between your legs?”

“Um, thank you, but no to all three.” Although, now that the making out was heating up and the pants were coming off, she was getting a bit turned on. “What’s your name?”

“I’ve had lotsa names. The boss chooses a new one each time.”

Barbara returned her focus to the clone. “That must be so strange. Well, is there something you’d like to be called?”

The clone stared at her, confused. Shaking his head, he cheerfully said, “Nope!”

“Would you like to sit?” She gestured to the chair on the opposite side of the card table.

“Woah, a chair. That’s so fancy!” He sat, beaming at her. “Thanks so much!”

_That’s worrying. Should we be trying to liberate Beetlejuice’s clones?_

Adam’s low moan interrupted her train of thought. He was lying prone on the bed while Beetlejuice gave him an enthusiastic blowjob. Barbara had a great view of Beetlejuice’s saggy, hair rear end. Strangely enough, a pair of dentures floated in the air near Beetlejuice.

The clone chuckled. “No teeth! Good one, boss.” It figured that his clone would be able to get his sense of humour quickly.

Barbara enjoyed watching her husband get a blowjob a lot more than she’d thought she would. It was nice not to have to do the work but get the benefit of seeing him turned on. His hands balled into fists, his muscles tightened, and they’d had enough practice at ghost sex that he remembered to sweat. He bit down hard on his lower lip, which meant he was going to come soon, but trying not to. She remembered that face from their awkward first few times together.

“Could you ease off for a moment, Beetlejuice?” she asked.

“No backseat fucking,” grumbled the demon’s disembodied voice. Surprisingly, he listened to her and raised his head. His teeth leapt back into his mouth.

Adam parted his lips a few times before he managed, “Thanks, Barbara.” He relaxed against the bed. To Beetlejuice, he mumbled, “So, how are we going to...?”

Beetlejuice glanced back at Barbara. “She do ass stuff with you?”

“No.”

Suddenly, Beetlejuice was where Adam was, and Adam was on top. Beetlejuice’s dick was quite large. Was that its regular size, or did Beetlejuice adjust things so he was much bigger than Adam? They’d find out sometime tonight, probably.

“Ride me, cowboy,” the demon said with a wink.

A cowboy hat appeared on Beetlejuice’s head. “Er, wait.” The cowboy hat appeared on Adam’s head next. “Heh. Um. Distracted by how hot you look like this, Sexy.”

Adam had always liked compliments. He smiled down at Beetlejuice. “Thanks. Could you manifest some lube?”

“Done!” When Adam looked around, Beetlejuice said, “Down here!”

It took Barbara a moment to realize Beetlejuice hadn’t opened his mouth to speak. In fact, the voice seemed to be at the lower half of his body.... Barbara inhaled, held her breath for five seconds, then let it out. Then she looked.

Beetlejuice had spoken from his ass. Sure enough, his asshole was now a little mouth with greenish drool (the lube he’d mentioned?) coming out of it.

A little tongue slid out and waggled at Adam. “Get down here! I want that D!” it said.

Adam froze. For some reason, this was what broke his brain.

Barbara stood up from her chair. Though Beetlejuice glared at her and put his hand on Adam’s shoulder possessively, she approached her husband and rested her hand on his head.

“It’s an adventure,” she said sweetly.

“Yeehaw!” said the ass-mouth.

Adam flinched.

Barbara waved invisible pom-poms before remembering they didn’t have to be invisible. The ones she manifested were grass green and yellow, their high school colours. “Maitlands 3.0!”

The clone came up beside her, wearing a female cheerleading outfit and shaking pom poms. “Go team!” He began clapping in time. “Brrr, it’s cold in here, there must be some Toros in the atmosphere!”

Barbara giggled. “You’ve watched _Bring It On_?” she asked Beetlejuice.

“No!” He glared at the clone. “The clones must’ve. I’m a demon! I watch hardcore porn, horror movies and snuff films.”

“Everything you say about the clones just brings up more questions,” Adam commented.

Barbara kissed him quickly. “Welcome back.”

Adam looked gratefully up at her.

“You know—” Beetlejuice’s gaze slid up and down her body “—Babs, you could join us.”

“Not right now. I still can’t get over you covering yourself in pee.”

“Shit, I make one mistake and you’re up my ass about it!” He paused. “Oh, wait, no, that’s Adam.” His eyes flared green. “ ** _Now_**.”

Adam gave her a helpless little shrug. She vanished the pom poms and waved to him before sitting down again. Her husband turned back to Beetlejuice and slowly slid the tip of his dick inside him.

There was a slurping sound from Beetlejuice’s ass. The ass-mouth was still a thing, apparently. Adam shuddered, yelping softly, his fingers digging into Beetlejuice’s flesh. Beetlejuice smirked. Adam stared into his eyes, and there seemed to be a moment of connection between the two men. Adam began moving, pumping in and out in quick, shallow thrusts. He reached down and grabbed Beetlejuice’s dick, jerking him off.

Beetlejuice hissed, though he caught himself a moment later and tried to look unaffected. “Good boy, taking care of Daddy."

Adam’s only response was a wild, unhinged laugh.

“Harder, you little slut. C’mon!”

Dirty talk had never really gotten her going, but Barbara could admire her husband’s perfect ass as he thrust harder. This was a nice vantage point. She pressed her legs together, enjoying the delightful ache between them. Even the out-of-place slurping and sucking noises coming from Beetlejuice’s asshole didn’t bother her.

Neither of the men lasted long. She could understand Adam, but Beetlejuice surprised her—she’d thought his regular orgies with the clones would’ve given him more stamina. _Then again, he’s not very good at holding off on something he wants._ Also surprisingly was that his come looked normal. It wasn’t streamers or spiders or something. There was a limit to his shapeshifting weirdness.

Adam had forgotten all the rules to make ghost sex feel more like living sex: he wasn’t sweating, panting or flushed. Did that mean Adam had enjoyed himself so much he lost all control of his mind and abilities? When was the last time she’d made him do that?

Barbara started to frown, but caught herself.

“Can I help?” the clone asked. He was sitting sideways on the chair opposite her, back in his normal Beetlejuice outfit.

Barbara startled. She’d forgotten he was there. “I’m fine, thanks.” That was a fib. She hadn’t really thought that Beetlejuice would be better at pleasing Adam than she was.

Adam laughed softly and shakily then kissed Beetlejuice.

“This again?” the demon’s disembodied voice grumbled. “Ugh. So boring. You’re the worst.” Beetlejuice made no move to stop Adam from kissing him or to switch things up. In fact, he was grinning when Adam finally pulled away and vanished their come with a lazy wave of his hand.

Barbara would discuss her jealousy with her husband if it came up again. She didn’t want to interrupt the flow of the day by pulling Adam aside for a discussion about her feelings. Beetlejuice wouldn’t let them stop without a lot of threatening or begging, anyway.

Adam got off the bed, smiling at Barbara and holding out his arms to her. “I love you.”

She was happy to accept the hug. “I love you, too.”

Beetlejuice gagged, but she ignored him. So, Adam had had a great time. That was why they’d asked Beetlejuice to join them in the first place. Freaky ghost sex wasn’t a threat to what she had with her husband.

“Okay,” the demon said, “my turn!”

Barbara just had time to say “Huh?” when Beetlejuice, still naked, poofed between her and Adam, grabbed their shoulders, and their bedroom vanished.


	25. They All Bone in this Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don't need a summary of this, do you? The title says it all!

He teleported them to the town centre. The sun was halfway up a bright blue sky; snow sparkled on the ground and store roofs. Christmas lights, reindeer and light-up candy canes blinked and shone from storefronts. A car drove down Main Street, its tires sending up slush.

_Is he insane?!_

“Beetlejuice!” Barbara shrieked.

“Quit freaking out! You’re dead.” Beetlejuice floated higher in the air, utterly naked. “No one can see you!”

“But the living can see you!”

“I’m in stealth mode, duh!”

“That won’t protect you from the sandworms!” Barbara said. Adam was looking around nervously.

The demon cackled. “A little danger makes it hotter, kids!” He tilted his head suddenly. “Hmm. Never done it _on_ a sandworm before….” His teeth grew pointed. “Heh.”

Something across the street had caught Adam’s attention. “That’s a Starbucks!” he said indignantly.

There was, indeed, a Starbucks on the corner. It took Barbara a few moments to understand why this upset him.

“Oh, the coffee shop closed down,” she said. They’d had their first date in Winter River Coffee, a snug shop with adorable mismatched tea sets. The owner, Sarah, had given wall space to show off the works of local artists. Barbara had exhibited a piece or two.

“That place was a Winter River institution! Replaced by a Starbucks?! What’s happening to our town?”

“Honey, can we focus?” To Beetlejuice, she snapped, “ _Brigadoon_!”

The floating naked demon recoiled, glowering—but even as he did so, he grabbed their arms and teleported them both back to their bedroom.

“You guys are the _worst_!” he growled. His suit fluttered over to him as he began dressing himself.

Barbara stood her ground. “That was so dangerous!”

“I had things under control, Babs!”

“And what if you didn’t? What if you got distracted for just one second? That’s all it takes for one of us to get hurt when we’re outside!”

His teeth had gone pointy as he floated into her personal space. “It was like the first time all three of us touched, okay? Remember, we were running from the sandworms at Chrissy’s place? That’s what I was doing. A fucking call-back. I wasn’t gonna let anything happen!”

“You teleported us without saying any of that.”

“Because talking’s no fun, Babs! Argh! You’re all ‘Beetlejuice, be a fucking chaotic shapeshifter—just not _too_ much.’”

“Don’t do stupid things that could get us killed!”

He leaned in to kiss her.

She pushed him back. “This is not a sexy argument!”

He retreated, arms crossed over his chest, glowering.

Into the silence, Adam said, “To change the subject, I’m going to write a strongly worded letter to the town council and have one of the Deetzes send it. I still can’t believe it. A family-run business taken over by some ugly chain store.”

“Fuck off, nerd,” Beetlejuice sneered.

Adam ignored Beetlejuice and picked up the Maitlands’ tablet, but Barbara wasn’t feeling so generous.

“You don’t get to talk to him like that! Not after…after everything we’ve just been through.”

“I’ll talk however I want!”

“If you’re not even going to try to be kind, then we’re done.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, right.”

Barbara looked at Adam, who was looking between the two of them. She hadn’t exactly meant to issue an ultimatum, but it was time for Beetlejuice to start managing his own behaviour.

“You’ll get bored of each other again in a few more years,” the demon added.

Barbara was too surprised to speak. Was that seriously what he thought?

“We didn’t approach this out of boredom, pal,” Adam said. “It was more curiosity.”

“Sure, sure.” Beetlejuice raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not trying to argue, really! It’s just…you two are such good kids. Bored and horny isn’t on-brand for the Maitlands. Of course you can’t admit that’s why you asked me to bang you.”

“We’re telling the truth,” Barbara insisted.

The demon held her gaze for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay, I’ll admit, you’re better at lying than you used to be.” He sucked in his stomach a little bit at the thought. “Must be me rubbing off on you.”

Barbara rubbed her temples. “Apologize, Beetlejuice. Or we’re done.” She’d deal with his misguided ideas about her and Adam’s sex life when she didn’t want to scream at him.

Beetlejuice snorted. But, when Barbara didn’t flinch or change her stance, he gradually seemed to realize she meant it. He took three deep breaths, his thumb running over the fingers on his opposite hand. It was one of Delia’s mindfulness techniques.

“I’m sorry, all right? For teleporting you without asking. And for insulting Adam.”

“Thank you!” Barbara wished she had some chore or task she could busy herself with, like Adam writing his letter. “Does anyone want to watch some TV for a bit?”

“Wait, I thought you said—"

“I want to take a break and reset. I’m not you—arguing doesn’t turn me on.”

“And I’ve got my letter to write,” Adam added.

Beetlejuice opened his mouth but, after a glance at Barbara, snapped it shut.

_Good. Ugh, I cannot believe him!_

* * *

TV was, in retrospect, not the best idea. Beetlejuice was the worst person to watch a show with. When he wasn’t loudly eating popcorn, burping, farting, or digging wax out of his ears with his fingers, he was talking over the TV or asking what was happening. That was if he even sat down for a whole half-hour. Usually, bugs covered the TV screen or static interrupted the program—static in which you could see terrifying images or, sometimes, hear voices. In Beetlejuice’s more inventive moments, the characters on the show suddenly found themselves trapped in a horror movie no matter the show’s genre.

Once, he’d given five-year-old Maitland nightmares by making Big Bird pound on the TV screen, begging to be set free from Sesame Street. “Something’s coming!” Big Bird had screamed. “Something’s coming!” (Elmo had gunned him down, but Adam had at least pulled Maitland out of the room before that.)

Barbara and Adam were curled up on the couch in the living room, with Beetlejuice hovering over their legs, bobbing up and down slightly.

“Who’s this guy, again?” Beetlejuice asked.

“Walter White,” Barbara said automatically.

Adam looked up from the tablet. “Well, there’s no need for me to write a letter. The Starbucks has been here for 10 years.” He sighed. “A little piece of history, gone forever.”

“Don’t get so attached to places, Sexy.” Beetlejuice didn’t sound unkind.

“You’re right, bud. I’m just a bit sad, that’s all.” He squeezed Barbara’s hand, and she kissed his cheek.

When she pulled back and snuggled further into her husband’s arms, Beetlejuice was watching them. He looked back at the TV when he noticed her gaze on him.

Adam glanced at Barbara, nodding to Beetlejuice. After a moment, Barbara nodded back, and Adam asked, “Would you like to cuddle, Beetlejuice?”

“Demons don’t _cuddle_ , Sexy. Just lemme know when you’re horny again.” He looked them over thoughtfully. “Although, this might help….”

Suddenly, a black-and-white striped blanket floated where Beetlejuice had been, one edge of it hovering expectantly over Barbara and Adam’s legs. Barbara was intrigued. All three of them touching was one of the reasons they’d wanted to do this, after all.

“So,” Barbara asked, “you want to be a blanket because…?”

“To get you guys hot. And I’ll grope you sometimes! Um, if you’re up for that.”

He was actually asking. That was a good sign. And maybe this was his way of making up for taking too much control earlier. “As long as you let us know what you’re doing, I’m fine with that.”

Adam cleared his throat. “Me too, but I’m going to have a quick shower first considering, um, where I’ve been.”

The blanket tilted its edge. “Sexy, we literally don’t have bacteria in our bodies. You can go from ass to vag just fine.”

_Charming as ever, demon._

“It would just make me feel better,” Adam said.

“Me too,” Barbara added. Adam needed a few illusions of being alive, and she wanted him as comfortable as possible.

Beetlejuice huffed but didn’t stop Adam from going upstairs.

“Well,” Barbara said to fill the silence. “Might as well get started.”

“Can I touch your hair?” the demon asked.

That wasn’t what she’d thought Beetlejuice would touch first. “Sure.”

With surprising gentleness, he undid the small braids that tied at the back of her head. (How was he doing it without fingers? She had no idea.)

After using her ghostly telekinesis to close the curtains, she took off her sundress.

A lump of Beetlejuice’s blanket eyed her up and down. “Adam with his tighty-wighties, you with your granny panties—it’s totally what I thought you guys wore. If I have one piece of advice to give breathers, it’s always wear sexy undies. Never know when you’re gonna die.”

“Sorry to disappoint, Beetlejuice. Although you also wear briefs….”

“It was the style back then!”

She patted the top of the bunched section of the blanket.

“Mm.” Suddenly, the living room couch was a black and grey king-sized bed, and black-and-white stripes appeared on the living room walls. Barbara frowned, uneasy but not sure why.

 _Wait—he tried to kill me when the living room looked like this_. That memory hadn’t stirred in a long time. _What a difference 10 years and lots of therapy makes._

“Can we please keep the walls the same?” she asked, keeping her tone light.

The Beetlejuice blanket floated lower as he sighed. “Fine.” The walls went back to their usual brown-grey colour.

Barbara sat down on the bed. Squashing a moment’s embarrassment—she was going to have to get naked in front of Beetlejuice sometime—she took off her bra and panties.

A low whistle came from the blanket. “Nice tits, baby.” Beetlejuice hovered closer. “Wanna keep warm?”

“Sure, but no pinching or groping until Adam gets back,” Barbara said. “I don’t want to get started without him.”

The Beetlejuice blanket spread over her feet; a hint of warmth stole over her freezing cold skin. He was pleasantly soft. She wriggled her toes against him, and he slid up her legs. Before she died, she hadn’t shaved above the knees recently; although she anticipated a crack about that, Beetlejuice either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She pulled him over the rest of her body, stroking the lump that she liked to think of as his head. (Knowing him, he’d probably made it his dick.)

The blanket settled on her, grunting in surprise and rippling a few times. “Mmm….”

There was a yelp from above and the water shut off abruptly. A naked Adam teleported downstairs, still wet from the shower and waving off invisible bugs.

“Locusts?! Really? I—” Adam fell silent as he took in Beetlejuice and Barbara.

Beetlejuice lifted off of Barbara, one corner gesturing Adam to join them. “You were taking too fucking long.”

“We didn’t start without you,” Barbara assured him. She spread her legs, arching her back to show off her chest.

Adam’s gaze slid up and down before he joined her on the bed. “You’re right, Beetlejuice. I was taking _way_ too long.”

His kiss was reassuringly normal compared to the uncertainty Beetlejuice brought to the bedroom. Adam started soft before pressing harder; after a few moments, he swiped the tip of his tongue against her lips. Adam would give her what she wanted, just like she’d give him what he wanted. They’d keep each other safe. They’d ask for consent, even with the smallest gestures. She opened her mouth eagerly, pulling him down on the bed, pressing herself against him. 

Beetlejuice enveloped the two of them, the sudden warmth making them gasp and moan. Adam shared a look with her, and she nodded fractionally. They moved faster than they normally would. Adam kissed down her stomach, gently parting her legs.

“I’m going for the boobs, ‘kay?” Beetlejuice asked.

Barbara was still slightly surprised when he used his words. “Okay. Um, gently, please.” Her nipples were really sensitive.

The blanket slid over her left breast. His first pinch made her wince. “Ow!”

“Shit! Really?”

“Yes!” _Maybe ‘gentle’ for him means don’t rip it off._

Adam raised his head from her stomach, looking between her and the blanket anxiously. “Are you still ready…?”

“For you, yes.” Nothing sounded better than Adam’s tongue between her legs. She knew exactly what to expect there. “Beetlejuice—”

“Yeah, yeah, your tits are precious little baby princesses. I got it.” He patted her right breast awkwardly. Very gently, he brushed against her nipple, which hardened and made her hiss.

“Good. Like that. Good,” she murmured. She started to relax as Adam kissed along her hip. The demon had learned his lesson; eventually, she stopped worrying about him at all. He’d stroke along her breasts, her stomach, sometimes her throat, a soft counterpoint to the pleasure Adam was building between her legs.

She came quickly, her orgasm a warm wave that made her moan and sigh. Adam smiled, and they kissed while he slid inside her and began thrusting harder than usual. Beetlejuice asked to play with Adam’s taint, and Adam said yes. It was clearly something Barbara needed to try more—her husband yelped when he came, and he was usually rather quiet in bed.

“Hey,” she murmured.

“Hey,” he replied, giggling. She wanted to stay warm and satisfied forever.

Beetlejuice had other ideas. She couldn’t blame him. He’d done exactly what he’d said he’d do. The demon poofed into himself, naked and hard, hovering a few feet away from the two of them.

“Thank you, Beetlejuice,” Barbara said.

He waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. Glad I could spice things up a bit. So, who’s hopping on my dick?” His dick dribbled some green-tinted pre-come.

Barbara glanced at Adam, who nodded and kissed her lips briefly. “Well,” she said, “there is one thing I’ve wanted to try with two men.” She’d read a few MMF romance novels, and this always seemed to happen near the final chapters and involve rapturous orgasms. “Adam, Beetlejuice, do we want to try some double penetration?”

Beetlejuice’s eyes widened, then he laughed. “Right. Because that’s what you think is kinky. But, yes. Long as I get in some hole, I’m good.”

“I’d be happy to,” Adam said.

“Okay.” Pushing past some nervous stalling, she said, “Okay, Adam, you’re going in the back. Um, no offense, Beetlejuice, but I don’t trust you back there yet. And, speaking of trust, do not turn your penis into, I don’t know, a sword—”

He tilted his head at her. “If I’m having sex, why would I want my dick to not be my dick? I’d want everything to be my….” His head tilted the other way. “Guys, idea! Can I make everything my dick? Just for a second!”

Barbara shrugged and covered her eyes. There was only so much crazy she could deal with for one night.

There was a faint pop sound, then, a few minutes later, another pop. Beetlejuice giggled continually. Uncovering her eyes, she saw Beetlejuice hugging himself, eyes glowing green and teeth pointed.

“Huh,” Adam murmured, staring shellshocked into the middle distance. “Well, I saw it, and now I can’t unsee it.”

Barbara clapped her hands together to get the demon’s attention. She wasn’t sure she succeeded.

“Do not turn your semen into bugs, or…I don’t know, acid that starts melting me from the inside.”

Beetlejuice’s gaze focused on her as his tongue lolled out of his mouth, thick and striped and dribbling saliva.

“Oh, God—this is turning you on, isn’t it?”

“Hrrrrr…” was all Beetlejuice could manage.

Adam glanced at her. “Honestly…are you that surprised?”

She chuckled. “I guess I shouldn’t be.”

Beetlejuice blinked a few times. Once he came to, he held his hands up in surrender. “Okay. Normal dick. Fine. There’s no way we can put a pin in acid—”

“No.”

Suddenly, a long list unfurled beside Beetlejuice. A marker suddenly in his hand, he crossed _Asid cum_ off the list.

A word caught Barbara’s attention. “Snakes? Beetlejuice, no one is making love to you as a snake.”

Something else on the list had caught Adam’s attention. “Human centipede?!”

“Guys,” the demon said placatingly, “it makes sense in context….”

“No!” they both shouted simultaneously.

Huffing, Beetlejuice crossed a few more words off the list before vanishing both it and the marker.

Barbara inhaled, held her breath for five seconds, then let it out. She checked in with herself, determined she still wanted to do this, then glanced back at Adam. He was watching her; he’d take her lead, as always. He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. All was well.

She tugged Beetlejuice closer to her; he stopped floating, alighting on the bed beside her. “Good.” She kissed him slowly, wanting to explore him, stroking up and down his chest. His chest was so hairy—or was that moss? He pawed at her breasts awkwardly. Getting used to having hands and not being a blanket, perhaps.

Behind her, Adam kissed her shoulders and neck. He’d keep her safe. _Okay. Butt stuff. I got this. Maitlands 3.0, baby!_

She nudged Beetlejuice down, asking “Would you…?”

He rolled his eyes—“Jesus, you can _push_ , babes”—but lay back.

“Next time,” she said as she straddled him.

He grinned. “Next time.”

She and Beetlejuice kissed again. Adam stroked soothingly up and down her back. When Adam murmured, “You’re so beautiful, I love you so much,” she realized she was stalling.

_C’mon, Barbara, you got this. I’m a sexy badass that has threesomes now. I can do it all._

But when Adam’s hands drifted to her ass, she tensed. _Oh, no._ _I don’t got this._

“Just…just give me a minute,” she said, embarrassed. 

“C’mon, baby,” the demon wheedled. “It’s just anal. Everyone does anal.”

“I know! I just…it might hurt, or…. I don’t know!” Good girls weren’t supposed to do things like this.

Adam stroked her hair. “We don’t have to. If you want to be with Beetlejuice, I can touch the two of you, or I can just watch. We can do whatever you want.”

“Or,” Beetlejuice said, “you can remember that you’re a ghost, and your body ain’t really your body anymore. When he goes up your ass, it’s not gonna hurt unless you want it to. Shit, you could make your ass feel just like your cu—”

“I get it.” Did he have to swear so much? “I’ve shapeshifted before.” She’d gotten used to becoming her guy-self, Brendan, for Adam. “But that wasn’t rearranging my body unnaturally. Hmm.”

Barbara focused, trying not to feel silly. She flashed back to clinical diagrams from health class. “Promise you won’t look, Adam?”

“Promise it won’t start talking?” he joked.

She chuckled, some of the tension leaving her muscles. “Yes.”

He kissed her temple and nuzzled her hair, letting her feel that he wasn’t looking anywhere near her ass.

Fighting back a wave of embarrassment, she tried a little shapeshifting. Had anything changed? Awkwardly, she reached back and fingered what had once been her asshole. The entrance was looser, more pliant. She easily slid a fingertip inside herself. _Well! Huh. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, why can’t I keep changing things up?_ She’d never orgasmed from a penis inside her. But if she fiddled with the size of her clit, she might be able to. _Or maybe just the nerves. I could spread those anywhere, couldn’t I?_

She wasn’t sure how long she worked on herself. It was long enough to bore Beetlejuice—he was jerking himself off halfheartedly while, for some reason, a few beetles did a tango above his head—but that wasn’t saying much, since he got bored so easily.

“Okay. I’m ready.” 

Adam kissed her sweetly.

“Fucking finally!” the demon growled. The beetles took their tango to the top of the TV, where it became a kick-line. Sometimes, you just didn’t want to ask why Beetlejuice was doing the things he did.

Irritated, Beetlejuice gestured to his dick. Gingerly, she lowered herself onto Beetlejuice. She expected some twinges as she stretched to accommodate him. He was stupidly large.

She didn’t expect the wild surge of pleasure that shot through her like lightning. Partly in shock, she yelped.

“Barbara?” Adam said nervously. “Beetlejuice, what did you—”

“I didn’t—” Beetlejuice snapped.

“He didn’t,” Barbara managed. It took her a few moments to manage, “That was a good noise, don’t worry.”

“Well.” Beetlejuice grinned. “That’s flattering.”

He didn’t have much to do with it, but explaining that was taking too much brain power. She giggled. “Mm. Adam? Now. Please?”

There was the sound of lube—of course, Adam was keeping things grounded—before Adam slowly slid himself inside her.

The press of his flesh against her inner walls made her come, suddenly and without warning. She moaned, muscles spasming, causing Adam to grunt and Beetlejuice to swear.

Beetlejuice chuckled. “Not bad, huh?” His voice was hoarser than usual.

She giggled wildly. “Um. Feels a bit like cheating.” Even the orgasms in her smutty romance novels, the ones that shattered or exploded or destroyed the woman having them, had taken more effort.

“Shit, Babs. We’re dead! Usually, we’re ice cold, nobody sees us, there’s sandworms everywhere…. Let’s have what little fun we got left!”

So Barbara did. It was easy when she came with only the slightest movement. The boys enjoyed themselves, too. Adam kept his refractory period, but Beetlejuice certainly didn’t; he’d come, then stay hard and come again. Eventually, Adam’s dick stayed soft for only a moment or two.

Beetlejuice couldn’t stop himself from talking. “Okay,” he mumbled, voice low and strained, “so…how ‘bout we just—we kick the breathers out. And we bang. Forever. Hmm?” Beaming, he looked between Barbara and Adam.

Barbara giggled as Adam kissed her neck. She should have been sweating, her skin flushed pink, but she’d completely forgotten about that. _Can’t get mad at Adam for what happened earlier with Beetlejuice, now can I?_ It was the first coherent thought she’d had since she’d started this.

Ghost sex wasn’t like living sex, but it had its own perks. Maybe Beetlejuice could help her and Adam explore more of them.

* * *

“I can make you swear,” hissed Beetlejuice’s disembodied voice in Barbara’s ear. The demon’s mouth was occupied between Barbara’s legs. He sucked the flesh of her inner thigh into his mouth while, somehow, his inhumanly long black-and-white striped tongue pressed against her clit and her G-spot at the same time.

“Nnnf!” Barbara’s hands fisted the sheets of the bed, which had once been a couch. “No, you can’t.”

“You’ll swear if you wanna come, whore.”

“Well, I actually have willpower, so that won’t—”

Beetlejuice’s tongue started vibrating against her clit. Barbara pursed her lips to muffle a yelp, her thighs tensing. She was beginning to regret giving the demon so much access to her most sensitive areas. But she had to admit the power struggles made things fun. It was so different than her dynamic with Adam.

She tried to focus on anything other than the building pleasure between her legs. They’d returned to the living room sometime during the day. (They’d had sex in a lot more places. The living room ceiling. Beetlejuice’s room. The kitchen.) Beetlejuice had turned the living room into a cross between a haunted house and a sex dungeon. The windows were boarded, spiders skittered in thick webs in the corners of the room, and a musty smell emanated from the walls, which were dark red. Then there was a wall full of sex toys, a sex swing and a St. Andrew’s cross, and quite a few objects Barbara couldn’t name.

Adam was moaning continually. He was tied spread-eagled to nothing, floating in mid-air, while a huge lubed dildo (black-and-white striped, of course) pounded his ass. He’d already come once or twice before, judging by the puddle at his feet he hadn’t vanished yet.

Seeing Adam getting hot wasn’t helping Barbara. Beetlejuice’s tongue pressed hard against her for a blissful moment before he pulled back. Barbara couldn’t stop a frustrated groan.

Beetlejuice’s disembodied voice commented, “What was that, Babs? ‘Fuck me harder because I’m such a slut’?” His tongue rippled against her tantalizingly. “No? I didn’t hear that? Oh we-eeeell.”

She rolled her eyes, and he gave her an infuriating wink. He timed his next assault on her clit and G-spot with Adam’s moans as her husband came again. Barbara had a lot of good associations with those sounds. Barbara squirmed, just biting back another groan. _God, it’s so intense_. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give the demon what he wanted?

Adam vanished the restraints that bound him in midair and floated to the ground. He gave her a cheerful wave.

The dildo sprouted four legs and ran away, yapping, reminding Barbara of the footstool from _Beauty & The Beast_.

Adam watched it run away thoughtfully. Barbara wanted to ask him what he was thinking about, but if she opened her mouth, she’d probably swear. _No. Not yet. I want to put up a good fight first. He’s going to be such an asshole about it if I give in after barely a minute._ If only there were some way to talk to her husband….

Suddenly, a Barbara appeared beside Adam, wearing her hair braided and her usual sundress. Barbara stared. _My first clone._

“What are you thinking about, honey?” the clone asked.

“The dildo,” Adam said, watching the dildo run off. “Each thrust was perfectly timed, and we all know that kind of synchronization isn’t Beetlejuice’s forte. Some manifestations have to have less of their creators in them than others. I’m just wondering how that works.”

The clone leaned in, fascinated. “If anyone can figure it out, you can! You’re so smart.”

“Um, thank you?” Adam looked at the clone for a moment then turned to see Barbara on the bed. “Oh! Oh, wow, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize…” He was suddenly wearing his clothes. “Pleased to meet you.”

The clone squealed softly, eyes shining as she stared into his face. “Oh, that’s so polite!” She giggled, hands clasped in front of her chest. “Pleased to meet you. Even though I kind of already know you. That you’re smart, and kind, and wonderful….”

A small poof from Beetlejuice brought Barbara’s attention back to the demon. A small crank was on the side of his cheek. He turned the crank and rolled his tongue back into his mouth, leaving Barbara frowning at the lack of stimulation.

As Adam stammered something to the clone, Beetlejuice vanished the crank, rolled his eyes at Barbara, and said, “You create a clone during an orgy because you love your husband so goddamn much? Jesus Christ, Babs. Forget not telling the Deetzes about us banging because you’re ashamed of me. I’m not telling the Deetzes about us banging because _I’m_ ashamed of _you_.”

“Barbara,” Adam said, “this is very sweet, but…um, can you…send her back? No offense—”

“None taken!” the clone said cheerfully. “Whatever you want is perfect, Adam.”

Adam shot Barbara a panicked looked.

“You want his autograph?” Beetlejuice suggested, grinning.

The clone gasped. “Oh, golly! Could I?”

Beetlejuice cackled.

“How do I send her back?” Barbara asked.

“You thought her here. Just think her gone.”

“It’s not going to hurt her, is it?”

“Um, no?”

“And she’s going someplace…good?”

“I dunno. Probably.”

The clone smiled sweetly at her creator. “Thank you for letting me meet Adam!” She beamed at Barbara’s increasingly unnerved husband. “He’s so great.”

“Yeah, he is. Thanks for checking in on him.” She felt bad about sending her away, so she reached out and squeezed the clone’s hand.

Beetlejuice gave an intrigued hum. “Now make out a bit, girls.”

The clone glanced at Adam. “Do you want us to, Adam?”

“Thanks again,” Barbara said, and the clone vanished.

“You dorks!” Beetlejuice giggled.

“Sorry to interrupt the two of you,” Adam said.

“Speaking of,” Barbara said, clearing her throat and nodding to Beetlejuice.

The demon smirked. “Mmm, no. I don’t wanna anymore.”

“Hey!” Barbara snapped, harsher than she ever would have been with Adam. “I didn’t tell you to stop. Get back in there.”

Something leapt in Beetlejuice’s dark eyes. Part of him loved being bossed around—well, sometimes. Unsurprisingly, his whims shifted on a moment’s notice. And his current whim was to make her work for it. “Nope, no way, the moment’s gone.”

 _Okay. Hmm. What do I know that he likes?_ The easy answer was himself. _Or maybe his name?_ “But Beetlejuice,” she cooed in a sexy baby voice, “mmm, Beetlejuice….”

“Ha! You think I’ve got a ‘Say My Name’ kink. Fun fact: I don’t.” His gaze grew troubled. “I had to beg a 15-year-old kid to say my name. Don’t make that weird for me.”

Fair enough. After a moment’s thought, Barbara started kissing up and down his cheeks. “But you were turning me on sooooo much,” she whispered. “You were _so_ good….”

His gaze sharpened and his lips parted before he huffed and rolled his eyes theatrically. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I loved it when your tongue was inside me, filling me….”

“Your dirty talk needs work, babe.” But he was squirming, unable to hold her gaze as he spoke.

This was getting to him more than she’d anticipated. She reached up and stroked his face, pressing her other hand against his hairy, mossy chest. Breathily, she murmured, “I want you so much.”

He glared suspiciously at her. “No, you don’t.”

Touched by this tiny display of vulnerability, she went for sincerity instead of sexiness. “I think I’d know what I want. And it’s you.” Part of her wanted to look at Adam—to apologize, perhaps, or at least check in to see if he was okay with this—but she stopped herself. _This moment needs to be about just us two._

Beetlejuice’s glare relaxed, becoming a shy smile. He rested his forehead against hers as he admitted, “I have too many goddamn kinks.”

“This is one of the more adorable ones.”

 _Oh, great, I triggered him._ Barbara braced herself for a snarled ‘I’m a demon, bitch!’

Instead, Beetlejuice chuckled and kissed her cheek. Of all the things she’d expected, she hadn’t expected sweetness. She stroked his hair and kissed his nose.

Not that he was going to be all sweetness for long. He glanced at Adam, casually saying, “Suck me off, bitch.” Then he whistled at her husband like he was a dog.

Shaking his head fondly, Adam knelt down beside the bed.

A car pulled into the driveway. The three of them froze.

 _The Deetzes must’ve come back early!_ Barbara jerked away from Beetlejuice, staring at the living room: the discarded clothes, the sex dungeon, all the black-and-white striped sex toys.

_No. No no no no no!_

Her power reached out, but Beetlejuice’s was faster. He had them fully clothed and sitting on the couch with Netflix on in a few seconds. She and Adam double-checked, knowing details weren’t really Beetlejuice’s strong suit. She vanished a few bugs and Adam vanished a pair of discarded underwear (Beetlejuice’s, from the smell and skidmarks).

The door opened, and Charles, Delia and Maitland came in, carrying their bags.

“Good evening,” Charles said. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes! Of course!” Barbara forced herself to smile. She hoped it looked normal.

“You’re home early,” Adam commented.

The Deetzes looked slightly confused.

“We’re actually right on time,” Maitland said.

“Right on time…?” Adam repeated weakly, sharing a concerned look with Barbara.

 _No. Absolutely not. We did not spend two whole weeks having an orgy with a demon. We…didn’t._ But Charles and Delia had a bit of a tan from all their time in the Arizona sun.

“Time moves differently for the dead,” Maitland said kindly. “We don’t blame you for missing a Facetime now and then.”

“Oh God,” Barbara breathed.

“We’ll go unpack and join you for dinner,” Delia said. “We can tell you all about the trip.”

Maitland was up the stairs when the huge dildo ran by, barking.

Delia’s eyes widened. Charles recoiled in disgust. Beetlejuice slapped his hands over his face, trying not to laugh.

“My child is upstairs,” Charles growled. “Get that thing—”

Barbara reached out with her power, vanished the dildo, then buried her head in her hands.

Beetlejuice lost it, cackling wildly. He only laughed louder when Maitland poked their head downstairs and asked what was so funny.

“We’ll go make dinner,” Adam said quickly. “Now.” He and Barbara teleported into the kitchen.


	26. Checking In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara, Adam and Beetlejuice check in with each other after their first time together, and discuss their future.

Barbara and Adam couldn’t laugh off two missing weeks like Beetlejuice could. As dinner was cooking, they teleported to their bedroom. Their phone, now dead, was resting on the nightstand. Adam plugged it in.

“Two weeks?!” Adam shook his head. “I can’t believe it! What if we keep missing more time? What if months pass? What if one day we lose track of time and we miss years?”

Barbara had horrible visions of a much-older Maitland returning home, telling Barbara and Adam that he was 30 now, and he hadn’t seen them in years.

She wasn’t going to let Adam start spiraling. “We’ll just keep our phone on us for next time.”

“And keep to our bedroom during the day,” Adam added. “Thank God Charles is allergic to pet dander. What if we’d had pets? We would’ve forgotten to feed them!”

“But we don’t have pets.” Suddenly remembering Delia’s plants, she gasped. “One minute!”

Barbara teleported throughout the house, watering Delia’s plants and giving them a few ghostly pep talks to make up for their mistreatment.

When their phone finally charged, they were bombarded with messages. The Deetzes had tried to talk to them every day for the first week; their communications had tapered off during the second. Lydia had Facetimed on Friday for their weekly chats. Claire had called a few days ago—Barbara and Adam had hoped to visit a local museum with their one non-Deetz human friend.

Barbara quickly texted an apology to Lydia and Claire: _So sorry we missed you! We put our phone down and all of a sudden it was two weeks later. We’ll keep our phone on us next time. I hope everything is going well!_

Lydia responded: _No prob._ _Claire and I went on our first date. It went really well! I’ll tell you more when I’m off work._ Morticians had to keep odd hours sometimes; death didn’t happen only during office hours.

“Aww.” Barbara quickly texted _Can’t wait! I’m so happy for you, sweetie!_ to Lydia.

“And we need to stop Beetlejuice from redecorating,” Adam said. “Without his haunted house cum sex dungeon, we at least could’ve seen the passage of time from the windows.”

Barbara snickered. At Adam’s confused eyebrow raise, she said, “You said cum. It’s funny, because—” She caught herself. “I’ve been spending way too much time with our demon.”

It was then that she truly focused on their conversation and realized they were talking about a second time. They still wanted Beetlejuice.

* * *

Later that evening, Barbara and Adam pulled Beetlejuice aside for a private word in their bedroom. He floated in casually, his tie barely done up and his hair pointing in every direction.

“Sooooo, newlydeads, I don’t remember you guys saying you hated our two-week sex sesh….”

“You’re right,” Barbara said, “we enjoyed ourselves once we worked on our communication. We’d be willing to have you join us again. Let’s say once a month when the Deetzes are out?”

The demon blinked. “Once a month?!”

Adam squeezed his shoulder gently. “We have eternity to get to know each other better. There’s no need to rush.”

After a moment, Beetlejuice nodded and shrugged. “If you sad nerds can only handle the B-Man once a month, fine by me. I’ve got a lot of things going on in my life that aren’t you.”

He probably meant video games or trolling people online. “We also wanted to talk to you about what we’re going to tell Maitland.”

Beetlejuice chortled, floating higher. Suddenly, their bedroom was a children’s classroom, with colourful paintings of spiders and fanged monsters on the walls. Beetlejuice, wearing a striped sweater vest and thick glasses, floated in front of a blackboard. Simplistic, childish music tinkled from somewhere.

“Well,” the demon said slowly, “you see kids, when a mommy,” he drew a female stick figure on the board, “and daddy,” he drew a male stick figure, “get really bored, sometimes they start having really bad ideas.” He drew a stick figure with ragged vertical hair. “Like boning the smelly demon who was a villain 12 years ago.“

The three stick figures started doing some of the sexual acts Barbara, Adam and Beetlejuice had done last night. As Barbara shook her head and Adam sighed, Beetlejuice chortled before vanishing the classroom. 

“Just kidding,” Beetlejuice said. “Even _I_ know that’s inappropriate for a kid.”

“Adam and I thought we’d tell them that we’re dating.”

Beetlejuice recoiled, floating back a foot. “Woooooaaaah.” He waved his hands at them in frantic ‘calm down’ gestures. “Woah, woah, woah. Look, I know I rocked your world, but dial it down, nerds.”

“That’s just what we’ll tell Maitland,” Adam said kindly. “It’s not appropriate to explain a casual sex to a 10 year old.”

Beetlejuice used his tie to mop at his forehead. “Phew! Okay! Scared me for a second, there.”

“And that means, if you want to hug or cuddle us outside of the bedroom—” Barbara said.

“I won’t.”

“—then there won’t be any awkward questions.”

Chuckling, Beetlejuice floated down to them and, slung his arms over their shoulders. “Heh. Look at this little fic of ours. Beetlejuice gets everything he wants and pretty much sacrifices nothing. That’s some top-notch storytelling, right there. Classic hero’s journey kinda shit. I’m not sure why we have so many chapters after this, but I assume they’re all porn, so that’s fine by me.”

Barbara had no idea what he was talking about. “Don’t mention porn around Maitland, Beetlejuice.”

“Eh, I’ll let you guys take the wheel on this one. You think I’m the kinda guy that teaches lessons to kids? Fuck no.”

* * *

After checking with Delia and Charles, Barbara, Adam and Beetlejuice brought up their relationship. Delia’s influence meant that Maitland knew about the basics of polyamorous relationships, but there was a difference between knowing something existed and having it right in their own family. Barbara and Adam sat on their bed on either side of them while Beetlejuice floated near the ceiling, examining his nails.

Maitland took it rather well, all things considered.

“Okay,” they said, a bit confused. “Are you all in love with each other?”

Barbara and Adam had roleplayed a few conversations with Maitland. “We all care about each other very much,” Barbara answered confidently. “We’re still working on what that means for us. For now, Adam is my husband, and Beetlejuice is our boyfriend. Does that make sense?”

“It does.” Glancing up at Beetlejuice, they said, “I don’t think you should marry either of them, Uncle.” They smiled. “You don’t have the strongest record vis-à-vis marriages.”

Beetlejuice blinked at the child. Just as Barbara was about to reprimand them for a tasteless joke, Beetlejuice burst out laughing. “You little shithead!” He descended to ruffle Maitland’s hair.

Maitland would probably have more questions later, but for now, this seemed like a good start. 


	27. Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beetlejuice disturbs the Maitlands' sleeping arrangements.

To Barbara and Adam’s surprise, immediately after their two-week orgy, their relationship with Beetlejuice didn’t change much. He seemed determined to keep it casual, and Barbara and Adam followed his lead.

One thing that did change, a few weeks later, was their sleeping arrangements.

Beetlejuice couldn’t get over the fact that, after 12 years as ghosts, the Maitlands still pretended to sleep.

“You’re the worst ghosts ever!”

“Probably,” Adam said agreeably.

“You’re _getting changed_ into your pyjamas. You could just snap your fingers!”

“I like the act of getting changed. It gives me time to think about the day we had and prepare my mind for the next day.”

“I think of ‘sleeping’ more like meditation,” Barbara added. “It’s peaceful.”

Beetlejuice stared at them despairingly.

“Would you like to join us?” Barbara asked. Only after she said that did she realize that probably wasn’t something you said in a casual relationship. She shot Adam an apologetic glance. He kissed her cheek.

Beetlejuice chortled “Oh. ‘Sleep.’ With all three of us touching.” His striped suit became striped full-body pyjamas, and his shoes became adorable sandworm slippers. A striped night cap completed the ensemble. “All right, you sad little breather wannabes.”

They made space between them, and he squirmed between them. Barbara and Adam didn’t deliberately touch each other, but Barbara didn’t stop Beetlejuice when he grabbed their hands and pressed them together.

Barbara used the ensuing warmth to recall lazy Saturday mornings curled up in bed with her husband when they were alive, when they had nothing to do and nowhere to go. Those had come few and far between; Barbara and Adam had been good at keeping themselves busy, and they’d usually had a course or lesson to get ready for on Saturdays. She wished she hadn’t been so busy when she was alive.

From his groan and his whispered curse word, Beetlejuice was obviously thinking something quite different.

“Goodnight, Beetlejuice.”

“Goodnight.”

“But guuuuuys,” he whined. He pawed at Barbara, and from the shaking of the mattress he was certainly humping something of Adam’s, but they had to be firm. It was just like teaching Maitland as a toddler to sleep in their bed instead of running into Delia and Charles’s room.

“Beetlejuice, no. It’s sleep time.”

Beetlejuice growled—literally, the growl a wolf or a lion would make—and poofed away.

Barbara sighed, adjusting to her usual lukewarm state. Adam kissed her on the cheek as they waited for Beetlejuice to come back.

He poofed back a few minutes later. “Okay, I jerked off, no thanks to you assholes.”

“Good. Now you can come to bed.”

He appeared suddenly between them. Barbara adjusted herself. She wasn’t surprised to find Beetlejuice kissing down the side of her jaw a few moments later.

“Babs, c’mon, you feel so good, baby, I want you….”

“Not now, buddy,” Adam said pleasantly as Barbara pushed the demon’s face away.

The swearing got more and more excessive each time he had to go back to the basement to take care of his urges. But after a while, much like the stink of rotting flesh, Barbara found she barely even noticed it.

Five in the morning found him curled up beside Adam.

“I hate you guys,” Beetlejuice commented. “So much. You can both die. Again. Fuck you.”

“Goodnight, Beetlejuice.”

He joined them at least once or twice a week after that.


	28. Tyler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler, Chrissy's new boyfriend, causes a moral dilemma for Barbara.

Chrissy usually talked to her and Barbara’s parents every Friday evening, so that was when Barbara visited. Chrissy used video chat on her laptop, while her boyfriend, Tyler, sat on the couch and scrolled through his phone, texting every now and then.

Barbara wasn’t sure when Tyler had come on the scene. Two months ago, she’d dropped in on Chrissy and found her cuddling with her new man while they watched TV. All Barbara knew about him was what he and Chrissy talked about when Beetlejuice and the Maitlands visited; unfortunately, none of those conversations had been recaps of their relationship so far. Barbara had done some snooping online: he worked at his family’s café in Muldare and freelanced as a brand consultant for local businesses. He left a clean online footprint, with a work Instagram account full of delightful coffees and pastries. Tyler and Chrissy weren’t living together, but he had a toothbrush and some clothes at Chrissy’s.

He was cute, quick to smile, and had kind eyes. Maybe Chrissy’s taste in men was getting better. _It’s been 14 years since I talked to my sister. She’s probably grown up a lot in that time._

The conversation between Mom, Dad and Chrissy started normally. Mom was taking a pottery course. Dad had thoughts about politics. They loved their house in Florida.

Then Mom offhandedly mentioned she’d had a precancerous mole removed last week.

“It was a really simple procedure,” Mom said. “And they caught it early. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about.”

Adam stroked Barbara’s shoulder. His usual job was keeping Beetlejuice amused when he wasn’t fighting sandworms. Beetlejuice kept wanting to reveal himself or pull pranks on the assumption that that would make Chrissy see Barbara. These days, keeping Beetlejuice amused involved stroking his hair or holding his hand. It was much easier than it had been.

But Barbara’s parents usually didn’t talk about cancer, so Adam was by his wife’s side. Barbara kissed her husband’s cheek.

“Well, okay, if you’re sure,” Chrissy said. They chatted a little longer before Chrissy said goodbye.

“I love you,” Barbara said as Chrissy hung up. Her parents never heard her, but it made her feel better.

Beetlejuice, hovering above Tyler, said, “Hey, Babs, your sister’s like you were, right? Boring? Monogamous? All that shit?”

“She’s not boring!”

“But she’d definitely hate that her boyfriend is planning a sexy hangout with another woman?”

Barbara teleported beside Beetlejuice. “What?!” Forgetting every lecture she’d ever given Beetlejuice about privacy, she read over Tyler’s shoulder.

 _ill see you on wed_ , he’d texted. Wednesday was Chrissy’s improv course at the local rec centre, and she usually stayed late to help close.

 _Can’t wait!!!!_ ‘Sarah from work’ texted back, with quite a few hearts and smiley faces. _Miss you so much!!!_

_miss u 2 sexy_

“Oh no you don’t,” Barbara hissed. “Not my little sister! Come on, bitch, **_cough up the receipts_**.”

“Woah!” Beetlejuice said, hovering on her left. “Is this love? Should we get married?” A moment later, he murmured an annoyed, “Beetlejuice, no....”

Barbara didn’t have any attention to spare for Beetlejuice; she was busy possessing Tyler and making him check his phone, going through every text he and Sarah from work had shared.

“Barbara!” Adam said, shocked. “We agreed no more possessing people!”

“This is about my sister, Adam!”

“I know, but it’s not right.”

“What other way is there for me to get this information?”

“We could haunt them!” Beetlejuice said excitedly. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him gesturing something. “Then, once they see you, we can ask!”

“Once again, no!” Tyler and Sarah had been seeing each other semi-regularly for a few months. Their texts had started out about taking shifts for work, then graduated to funny memes and in-jokes, then became mostly about meeting up for sex and how much fun they’d had having sex.

Tyler had never explicitly texted ‘Don’t tell my girlfriend about us.’ Barbara grumbled in frustration. Did Sarah know about Chrissy? Did Chrissy know about Sarah? Once, Barbara would’ve confidently said her sister was monogamous, but Barbara and Adam were proof that people could change.

Barbara switched to having Tyler check the texts between Chrissy and Tyler. These seemed much more like ‘girlfriend’ texts—how much fun they had on dates, plans to meet up in public, and their own set of funny memes and in-jokes. But there was no talk of being exclusive. Should she make him check his email next?

“Ty?” Chrissy asked.

Barbara froze. She made Tyler look up from his phone and say, “Huh?”

Chrissy huffed. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for the last few minutes.”

“Sorry, babe.” He seemed like a guy who said ‘babe.’

Chrissy didn’t stop frowning. “Can you believe Mom? She doesn’t even tell me about a major medical procedure!”

“Well, that’s Mom for you.” At Chrissy’s confused look, Barbara made him say, “Moms in general, I mean. They think they’re protecting us. I get it; it’s so frustrating.”

That slip meant it was probably time to give the reins back. Barbara hesitated. This was her one chance to speak to her sister.... Barbara put Tyler’s arm over Chrissy’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “I love you.”

Chrissy’s frown relaxed to a small, tired smile. “I love you too, Ty.” She’d probably stew on Mom’s news for a few days or weeks, but for now, she was fine. “Where did that ‘babe’ thing come from, though?”

Barbara dropped the reins.

Tyler blinked a few times. He came up with “Just trying something new,” very quickly. _Almost like he lies a lot._

But she’d need to do a lot more research to figure out who exactly knew what.

“Well, can we go back to the old way? I prefer Christine. It’s my name, after all.”

 _Good to know._ “Sorry for this mess, Chrissy,” she whispered to her sister.

Of course, Chrissy didn’t hear her. Barbara faced a scowling Beetlejuice and a frowning Adam. “Let’s go back. We’ve got an investigation to plan.”

* * *

Trust Beetlejuice to make an already complicated situation even more complicated.

The first thing he said to her when he teleported her back to the Deetz-Maitland living room was, “So, if this Tyler’s a cheating asshole, we can haunt him, right?” Barbara opened her mouth only to have Beetlejuice make a shushing gesture. “Just hear me out, Babs! I promise no murdering, maiming or making him lose his job.

“Here’s what I was thinking.” His eyes were bright, gleaming with a hint of Netherworld green. “I find him sleeping with his side-chick—and, yes, just sleeping. I possess her so she leaves the bed. I sneak in there as a corpse and have her say something from the kitchen or whatever. ‘If she’s there, then what’s here with me?’ he thinks. Just as he turns to see—boom! Swarm of bugs! Or snakes! Or rats!” He clapped his hands together, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he hovered in mid-air.

“Or, wait, I got another one! He wakes up one morning to find the word ‘cheater’ in red paint over everything! His bedroom, all his clothes, his doors, his windows. Right down to the toilet paper! And he’s gonna need that toilet paper when he shits his pants! Heh.

“And that’s just what I thought of in a few minutes. Gimme a day or two and I can deliver a top-notch, high-quality haunt that’ll bring the guilt and pain. Tyler will regret the day he ever stepped out on your sister. I’m great at coming up hauntings! Ask Lyds!”

Barbara sighed. “Beetlejuice—”

Beetlejuice’s smile dropped. He looked at Adam, gesturing him into the conversation. When Adam shook his head, Beetlejuice turned his dismayed stare to Barbara. “Babs, baby, c’mon! If anyone deserves some mostly harmless revenge, it’s the asshole who’s cheating on Chrissy.”

Barbara had to admit she was tempted. But she’d already crossed one line today. “No, Beetlejuice. Using our ghostly powers for evil isn’t how we want to live our afterlife.” She still felt so guilty about making a roasted pig attack Delia and rip her dress during her first time possessing someone.

The demon’s dismay soured to anger. “You know what? Maybe haunting that limp-dicked fuckface is a condition of me helping you investigate whether Chrissy’s living a poly lifestyle. See how you losers like teleporting and fighting sandworms! Argh!” He poofed away, leaving red smoke behind.

Barbara’s hands balled into firsts. “Is he _serious_? He can’t do that!”

“He’ll come around,” Adam said calmly. “Some dessert and some not-at-all cuddles, and he’ll be in a better mood.” Barbara and Adam had learned a few things about Beetlejuice in the months since they’d opened up their relationship: Beetlejuice loved cuddles but was too proud to ask for them.

“I hope so. But this is also a good reminder to start learning how to teleport long distances ourselves.”

“Let’s give him some time to cool off before we start our charm offensive.”

“’Our charm offensive’?” She chuckled. “You could just show up in his room naked. You’re his favourite.”

“Well, he did ask to marry you half an hour ago....”

“He did?” It took her a few moments to remember; she’d been caught up in snooping through Tyler’s texts. “Oh, yeah.” She looked very seriously at Adam. “You better work on being adorable, Mr. Maitland. I obviously have other options.”

Adam kissed her. “I’ll work very hard.”

* * *

Before they could start coaxing their demon toward goodness, Beetlejuice surprised Barbara by approaching her alone while she was doing laundry the next morning.

“There’s no chance you were just spewing all that ‘no haunting’ bullshit because Adam was there, right? I can haunt Tyler and keep it a secret.... C’mon. I know you hate that turd. Doesn’t he deserve it?”

Barbara hesitated. It was tempting, but what was the ultimate point? She wasn’t even sure making Chrissy aware Tyler was cheating on her was ethical. “No, Beetlejuice.”

“But it would’ve been so fun!”

Barbara stopped herself from apologizing. “You know that’s not me. Besides, why would I want to do favours for you right now? The first thing you did when you didn’t get your way was threaten us.”

“Yeah, but—” Beetlejuice cut himself off. “Because you guys—” He snapped his mouth shut. Suddenly, a ‘Wheel of Fortune’ style wheel appeared behind him. He turned it, and once it stopped, the arrow pointed to ‘I have needs, too.’

Shaking her head, Barbara turned back to folding laundry. “You don’t get to weaponize the language of being in a relationship. We said from the very beginning that we wouldn’t make love to you if you were doing evil acts.”

“But haunting that douche isn’t evil, baby! It’s justice!”

“It’s vengeance. Also, we don’t know if he’s a douche yet. Relationships are complicated. Maybe he and Chrissy just have a casual thing. Maybe they’re not exclusive. We can’t rush to conclusions.” It still hurt, how little Barbara knew about her own sister’s life.

Beetlejuice groaned in frustration. Barbara glanced up from her laundry to see him floating and sulking, arms crossed over his chest. The black stripes of his suit were turning blue, surprisingly. It took Barbara a few moments to figure out why. _He looked so happy when he was telling us his ideas. He must really miss his job._

_Miss it enough to throw a tantrum when he didn’t get it._

“And,” Barbara added, “if you need a little more chaos, you have to find that on your own. Relationships aren’t meant to fill every void in your life. They can’t.”

“Yours does,” he grumbled.

“Maybe it looks like that from the outside, but it doesn’t.” She couldn’t imagine her life in their home with just Adam. Would they still be together if they hadn’t met Beetlejuice, Lydia and the Deetzes?

“But you’re always touching each other.”

“Because it makes us feel warmer. You saw us when we were alive. We weren’t as clingy back then.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess.” After a moment, he held out his hand. “Being freezing sucks.”

That was surprisingly kind, but Barbara wasn’t feeling comfortable enough yet. “Is there something else you want to say?”

“Uh, no?”

Sometimes teaching Beetlejuice was exhausting. Even Maitland knew to apologize for bad behaviour, and they were 10. _But Beetlejuice clearly didn’t have a mother who taught him how to be a person. Or, if he knew once, he’s forgotten most of it by now._

“I know that look.” Beetlejuice poofed into Barbara, staring at her with weary disappointment. He poofed into himself. “So...withholding my powers makes me the asshole?”

“It does. But if you really don’t want to help us, you have a right to say no. Adam and I can figure out our own way to investigate Chrissy.” _I should just say what it is: to spy on my sister. Ugh. Should I just leave her alone? Maybe she’ll find out about Tyler cheating on her on her own._

Beetlejuice snorted. “Make one clone, and you think you can handle powers it took me centuries to develop. No, you’re still little baby ghosts, and you need my help. Which you got, baby. Sorry I was being a dick.” He scowled. “Ugh. I hate apologizing.”

“Maybe don’t do things that you have to apologize for later?”

He chuckled. “Babs, you and me are very different people.”

Barbara smiled. Since she was mostly done with the laundry, she held her hand out. He took it, and the warmth swept over her. She kissed his cheek.

He looked curiously. “Wait, we’re allowed to kiss, just the two of us?”

“Of course. A kiss or two, hugs, hand holding.... If it gets to making out, that’s when I’ll call Adam in.” She frowned. “And we never told that to you.” Barbara and Adam were so used to checking in with each other, and so used to Beetlejuice shutting down any hint of sentimentality, that they hadn’t even bothered to tell their demon lover something so obvious. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, Beetlejuice.”

“No fun breaking rules if you don’t know what they are.” He pulled her close, resting his hand on the top of her ass. “So. How many kisses before you gotta call your man in?”

Barbara giggled as Beetlejuice attempted to find out.


	29. Moving Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helping her sister makes Barbara reassess her role in the Maitland-Deetz household.

Figuring out the specifics of Chrissy and Tyler’s relationship didn’t take long. It involved possessing Tyler’s father and having him ask Tyler how his relationship was going (things with Christine were going great, apparently), and possessing Sarah and asking him if he was seeing someone else. Tyler had look startled and said he wasn’t.

Barbara didn’t know where Chrissy’s closest friends lived, so she had to have a few awkward conversations with Chrissy’s coworkers during her shifts at the Whole Foods. Beetlejuice kept the sandworms under control, and Barbara and Adam kept their possessions brief. It hurt Barbara’s WASPish heart to pry so much, but what was a little embarrassment next to Chrissy’s happiness?

Chrissy thought she was dating Tyler exclusively, and as far as she knew it wasn’t an open relationship. Tyler was the cheating douchebag Barbara had suspected he was.

Then Barbara had to figure out what to do next.

“Letting Chrissy know is the right thing to do, isn’t it?” she asked Delia and Charles. Was this the first step on her path to becoming a demon, to forgetting everything about being human?

Delia squeezed her shoulder gently. “Would you tell her what you knew if you were alive?”

“Of course! But if I were alive, I could be there for her.”

“She has friends and your parents,” Charles said.

Barbara sighed heavily. “You’re right. But.... No, of course, you’re right.” So why didn’t it feel right?

* * *

Adam devised the plan, which he, Barbara and Adam implemented a few days later. They had to find out where Sarah lived, which creeped Barbara out. Fortunately, it didn’t take long; Tyler visited her one evening. Then, they dropped in on Chrissy’s apartment, waiting for Tyler to show up.

The plan went into effect on a cloudy June evening. Four sandworms were coiled around Chrissy’s apartment building, eyeing her window with hungry yellow eyes, tongues flickering and teeth snapping.

“Are they getting smarter?” Adam asked.

Beetlejuice shrugged. “The people who send ‘em are, probably. But don’t worry. I can take it.”

Chrissy made chicken pot pie and had Tyler over for dinner. He gave her a long hug when he walked in the door.

Chrissy smiled up at him. “You’ve become a real heartbreaker at the store. These past few days, so many of the ladies asked about you!”

“Wow. I don’t even go to your Whole Foods that much.”

Barbara had thought the plan would be easy, now that she knew Tyler was a cheating dog. But seeing Chrissy’s happiness made her hesitate. Maybe Tyler would realize he was doing wrong and dedicate himself to her sister? Barbara was dead. What right did she have to interfere with her sister’s life now?

“Can I just make a cockroach skitter over his shoe?” Beetlejuice whispered in her ear. “C’mooooon....”

Barbara rolled her eyes. “Thanks, but no.” Adam took her hand, squeezing gently, and she squeezed back. Beetlejuice reached for her other hand, then stopped himself, running his hand through his hair instead. “Let’s get it over with.”

“Can do, babes.” Beetlejuice teleported over to Sarah’s house and made her text _Can’t wait until tommorriw nite sexyyy!_ to Tyler’s phone, which was surprisingly nonsexual for Beetlejuice. _Is that Beetlejuice being kind? Or maybe he’s just uninspired._ Beetlejuice had been trying not to sigh, sulk and roll his eyes during the plan, but hadn’t always succeeded.

Adam raised his hand, focused on Tyler. He had Tyler distractedly put his phone down and go to the washroom.

Barbara swallowed. “I’m sorry, Chrissy. This isn’t fair.”

Then she took control of her sister and made her check the screen of Tyler’s phone and read the incriminating text. She dropped the possession a second later. Chrissy read the text a few more times, eyes widening. She tried to unlock his phone, but none of the passwords she tried worked. Adam kept Tyler in the washroom until Chrissy put the phone down and sat in her seat, picking at her food.

Adam lowered his hand and Tyler came out of the washroom. The dinner continued much more quietly. Chrissy barely looked at him.

“Sorry, Ty, I’ve got a migraine coming on,” she said after a few minutes. “Do you mind going back to your place tonight? I just want to pop an Advil and go to bed.”

Tyler looked surprised. “All right. Text me if you’re up for the farmer’s market tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

“Boo, Chrissy!” Beetlejuice shouted. He’d teleported back without Barbara noticing, and was wearing a foam finger and a beer hat. “Kick his ass!” He waved a flag with blood splatters on it.

Barbara glared at him. “My sister isn’t here for your entertainment, Beetlejuice.”

Tyler left, and Chrissy plopped down on her living room couch, staring blankly at the wall. Barbara was about to manifest something to bring Cricket into the room before remembering that Cricket had passed away that spring. The cat was now ashes in an urn on Chrissy’s dresser.

Barbara sat beside Chrissy and reached out to stroke her hair. Her fingers went through Chrissy’s head.

Chrissy flopped down on the couch, covered her face with a Broadway-themed throw pillow, and screamed into it.

Barbara was torn. This was a private moment, but wasn’t it cowardly to leave after hurting her sister? Adam brushed his hand against her shoulder, but Barbara stepped away from him, jaw tensing. Barbara didn’t deserve comfort.

“Screams are way more fun when they’re screams of fear...” Beetlejuice commented, fiddling with his tie, not looking at Chrissy.

That decided her. Barbara snapped, “All right—let’s go home.”

Beetlejuice teleported them away just as Chrissy started sobbing.

* * *

Delia was sitting on the couch and looked up from her phone as the ghosts appeared in the Deetz-Maitland living room.

“Would you like to talk, darling?” she asked.

“No thanks. I just need a moment alone.” She teleported up to the attic.

Her painting of that stupid farmer’s field mocked her. It was just a memory of a dead woman’s childhood. What was the point of continuing it? Delia or Charles might put it up in their offices, and Lydia had offered her apartment wall for any of Barbara’s pieces, but right now Barbara didn’t want their pity.

Tears sprang to her eyes. Once, Beetlejuice had asked her why she didn’t paint her family. Barbara hadn’t answered at the time, but now she knew: it hurt too much. She’d abandoned her living family to play fake mother to two children who already had parents. It had made sense in the two years when Beetlejuice wasn’t here. But why had she stayed with the Deetzes for so long?

_I keep saying I don’t want to destroy Chrissy and my parents’ faith in God and a just universe. But is there anything stopping me and Adam from watching over Chrissy or Mom and Dad?_

After a while—how long, Barbara wasn’t sure—a knock sounded at the attic door.

“It’s me,” Adam said.

“Come in.”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

“Adam, what are we even doing here?” Barbara asked.

Adam held her from behind, kissing her temple. “I’m sorry this didn’t make you feel the way you wanted.”

“Thanks for not saying ‘I told you so.’” She sighed. “Should we still be here, in this house? What if Mom actually gets cancer? Shouldn’t I be with my parents and Chrissy to make sure they don’t go to the Netherworld?” _Or, if they want to go, we all go together._

Adam nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I hear what you’re saying. Our adopted family has never come into conflict with our birth families before.”

“Does that sound selfish? I mean, I love Maity and Charles and Delia, but that doesn’t mean we have to live with them.”

“I don’t think it sounds selfish. It’s something we should talk about.”

“And we’ve only been talking about my family. What about your cousins?”

“I was never close with them. And they’re so spread out. The closest one is Drew, but can we even teleport to Baltimore?”

Suddenly, Beetlejuice’s head pushed up through the floor.

“Hey, guys—” he began, then stopped himself, eyes widening as he took them in. “Um.” He glanced between the two of them. “Couples moment, right?”

It was, technically, but Barbara had some haunting-related questions. “Beetlejuice, when we were alive, you had to stay near us all the time to make sure we didn’t go to the Netherworld, right?”

“’Course.” The rest of him floated up from the floorboards. “Crashed a funeral now and then for fun, as you do when you’re an invisible demon. But I was mostly stuck watching you guys. Sometimes, the termites eating your floorboards were more interesting.” A rimshot sounded from somewhere. Beetlejuice looked between her and Adam, then sighed. “Wasting my best material on you guys.”

“Can ghosts move to other places? Other buildings or objects?”

“If you were haunting your ashes or a creepy doll and a breather moved it, sure. But you guys aren’t object or body-haunters; you’re place-haunters. All ghosts get a free pass to haunt a hospital or a battlefield; sandworms don’t usually show up there. Ooo, you can haunt a crossroads at midnight—wait, no, that’s more of a demon thing. Wait a few centuries for that one.” He chuckled. “It’s awesome! You always smell like sulfur and brimstone when you manifest. I have no idea why. You usually have to put up with some mortal asking you for wishes, but that just makes it fun." He tilted his head. "What’s all the questions about?”

“I was wondering if Adam and I could move to Chrissy’s.”

Something set Beetlejuice off. He glowered, teeth growing pointy, scarlet rising from the tips of his shoes up to his legs. “Maity’s still around! Jesus Christ, Barbara! You don’t get to **_leave your fucking kid!_** ”

“Oh my God, I was just thinking of moving out, not leaving forever! How could you even think I’d abandon my child?!”

Adam stepped between them. “Barbara, it seems that Beetlejuice’s abandonment issues were triggered. Beetlejuice, please let Barbara finish her sentences and explain herself.”

Barbara felt a surge of pride. Adam was usually so conflict-averse. _He’s grown a lot helping Beetlejuice manage his issues. And helping me manage my snappiness._ Barbara and Beetlejuice would’ve had a lot more arguments if Adam hadn’t been around.

The red drained away to the tips of Beetlejuice’s toes. He cleared his throat, not able to look her in the eye. “Yeah, ‘abandoning your kid’ doesn’t track. Sorry. Delia keeps telling me to breathe. Kinda hard to do that since I haven’t breathed in centuries, but we’re working on something different to keep me from going all red zone.”

“Thanks, Beetlejuice.” She raised her hand, reaching for his. “Can I...?”

Beetlejuice looked surprised, then nodded. She held his hand loosely.

Beetlejuice glanced between her and Adam. If Beetlejuice touched Adam, all three of them would be touching. “It’s not our fuck-day, but maybe if we banged one out, you’d feel better? To find out, I volunteer as tribute.”

“Thanks, but I’m not up for it.” Barbara sighed. “We can’t haunt another house anyway. I hate that I can’t help Chrissy. I hate it so much. If only there were some way I could talk to her—”

“Wait,” Adam said, dropping his hands from around her waist. “Give me a second.”

“Okay...?”

Adam started digging around in a pile of junk, leaving Beetlejuice holding her hand.

“You know you don’t have to feel so bad if you appear to her,” the demon said. “Why are you being so stubborn, babes? Look, tons of newbie ghosts freak out when the read the _Handbook_. Then they get over it, draw the door, and ease on down the road. Even priests and atheists draw that damn door. Chrissy and your parents’ll be the same.”

They’d argued this so often she barely had to think. She stared at her painting, tears welling up in her eyes. “They deserve a normal life. Appearing to them is selfish, especially after they’ve mourned me and moved on.” _And what would we talk about? What right do I have to drag them into this pale imitation of a life?_

“Yeah, because at the end of the movie when the person the family thought was dead comes back home, it’s always such a downer. No hugs or tears or happy music.”

“Well, life’s not a movie.” The tears fell; she wiped them from her cheek with her free hand.

In the silence, she could just hear a tiny voice, but not the words. She glanced behind her to see a beetle perched on Adam’s shoulder.

“You’re doing fine,” Adam whispered to the bug.

The beetle said something again as Beetlejuice awkwardly patted her head like she was a dog, muttering, “Um, there there, baby. Stop crying, will ya?”

“—with discomfort is sometimes necessary,” Adam finished.

The beetle said something else.

“Hmm, I guess I do sound like Delia. Makes sense, since we both use her as a therapist.”

Barbara sniffled. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Beetlejuice.” She wiped at her eyes. “You can—”

He poofed away, leaving her freezing cold. Barbara blinked. _I didn’t think he’d leave that fast. But these kind of emotions aren’t really his thing, are they?_

“I think I’ve found it,” Adam said, starting to get excited.

Beetlejuice poofed back to the attic with the tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream from the freezer, a bowl and a spoon. “If you wanna cry and feel shitty about your dumbass—I mean, about your decision, you can at least feel sad and full.”

“Oh. Thanks.” She was so touched that she kissed him briefly on the lips as Adam pulled something from the junk pile.

Adam opened up a stationery set, her present to him on their fifth anniversary. The fancy pens gleamed in the attic’s dim lighting. The paper had gone slightly yellow with age. “You can write a letter to Chrissy and date it before we died. The Deetzes can drop it off at her improv class. She’s listed as an instructor.” They’d found that out during their research. “They can say that Maitland found it while they were exploring the attic.”

“But I can’t tell her I’m sorry about Tyler.” She couldn't even mention boyfriends in general. Chrissy had been single when she and Adam died.

“Shit, baby,” Beetlejuice said, “you can think up something inspiring to say.”

“You’re right. Oh, God, I can write something for Mom and Dad, too.” It wasn’t perfect, but nothing about being a ghost was perfect. The letters would hurt, but hopefully not too much. She’d been dead 14 years, after all. And as far as Chrissy and her parents knew, Barbara was waiting for them in Heaven and all was right with the universe.

Beetlejuice floated the spoon over to the tub and made it start scooping the ice cream into the bowl. He was ignoring Barbara and Adam in the same studious way he did when he was trying not to ask for cuddles.

Barbara shared a look with Adam, who nodded slightly, and she gestured the demon over. “We need our guide to the other side in this hug, I think.”

“Whatever, nerds.” But he joined the hug nonetheless and squeezed them very tight, leaving the spoon to scoop so much ice cream into the bowl that it eventually overflowed.


	30. Aunt Christine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara’s sister deals with an unexpected communication from the past. Maitland reflects on meeting their aunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: referenced alcoholism, suicidal ideation, depression and anxiety.

Christine was just finishing up her improv class at Muldare’s local rec complex when two parents brought in their young child, a short-haired young person in a pale green sundress, a red jacket festooned with pins and broaches, and thick brown boots. One of their pins was the anarchist symbol, another was the genderfluid pride flag, and quite a few of them were bug-related.

Christine pasted on her best customer-service smile. “Hello! Are you looking for some information on our children’s programming?” _At 9 PM just as I’m about to lock up. Please, God, let them just take a pamphlet and get the hell out._ The past few days had been awful. She barely had energy for a shower before crashing into bed.

The bed where Tyler had slept beside her, telling her he loved her. Lying to her. It had taken a few days after reading Tyler’s phone, but she’d finally dumped him yesterday. She’d had to block his number because he kept texting her. She still wasn’t sure why she’d looked at his phone in the first place. _Some part of me must have known something was up._

“Good evening, Miss Bennet,” the father said in a rich bass. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal-grey suit with a pink shirt beneath and a turquoise blue tie and matching pocket square. He’d probably driven to the rec centre in a Lexus. Not a silver hair on his head was out of place. “I’m Charles Deetz, he/him. This is my wife, Delia Deetz, she/her—” who looked like an aging hippie turned wealthy yoga mom “—and our child, Merrick Deetz, they/them.”

Merrick nodded to Christine. “Good evening.”

“Christine Bennet, she/her. I’m afraid our youth program director isn’t here. Can I leave him a message?”

“Actually,” Delia said, “we’ve come to see you, Christine, about a matter of some delicacy.”

Christine desperately wished she’d had a cup of coffee before her class. Her thoughts were moving far too slowly. “What about?” Had she met them before? Come to think of it, the name Deetz did sound familiar....

“Do you have an office we can step into?” Charles asked.

“Um, staff have a break room in the back.” She led them to the break room, past the musty hallways with the exposed pipes, under the ghoulish fluorescent lighting, past the row of grey staff lockers. She noticed every scuff on the carpet and crack in the plaster as she did. The Deetzes seemed so out of place here.

_What do they want with me? Wait, this doesn’t have anything to do with Tyler or Sarah, does it? God, I’m being paranoid._

She gestured them into the break room, with its small kitchenette and two long dining tables. The staff had tried to spruce the room up—a plastic plant here, a photo of a tree there—but all Christine could see was how cramped it was.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” Charles said, with an air of someone who said that often. “Fourteen years ago, I purchased a house in Winter River at an estate sale for Adam and Barbara Maitland.”

The air vanished from her lungs. “Oh,” she murmured. “Yes. Charles Deetz. I remember now. You emailed me about collecting Barbara and Adam’s things. I’m so sorry that I never got back to you.” She’d always meant to, but she hadn’t had the energy to do anything after Barb’s death.

“Please, don’t apologize. I should have made more of an effort to return them to you. I had recently lost my wife, and was dealing with my own grief.”

Christine found herself saying those words she’d hated after Barbara’s death: “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. Although your sister’s effects are why we’re here.”

Delia opened her purse and pulled out a manilla folder as Merrick started speaking. “I was exploring the attic when I chanced upon a box of fine stationery supplies and opened it. Within, I found some letters. The writing was faded almost to illegibility, but just enough was preserved that I could make out their contents.” Merrick leaned in after a dramatic pause. “They’re letters addressed to you and your parents from your sister 14 years ago.”

 _Well, this kid belongs in theatre_ , was all Christine allowed herself to think.

“Would you like to sit?” Delia asked. Only then did Christine realize she was holding the table to keep standing.

Christine nodded as Delia kindly pulled out a chair and guided her into it. Letters from Barbara? When Barbara was alive, Christine, Barb and their parents had chatted every few days in the family group chat. She certainly hadn’t written letters.

But who would lie about something so odd? People lied to gain things. What did this obviously wealthy family have to gain from an underemployed woman in her 40s?

“I rewrote them so you could read them clearly,” Charles said apologetically, “but the letters’ content is from your sister. We scanned copies of the originals and attached it in a data stick.”

Christine tested out her voice. “Can I see these letters?”

“Of course,” Delia said as she handed Christine the folder. “We should be returning home now anyway. Charles and I attached our business cards in case you’d like to speak further.”

“Thank you.” Christine opened the manilla folder just enough to peek in and read the first sentence.

_Hi Chrissy, it’s Sissy._

God. She’d forgotten that childhood nickname. _What else have I forgotten?_ Christine swallowed, blinking back tears. “I’m glad that you’re still living in that house,” she found herself saying, her voice quivering. “Barbara and Adam were just about to start their family before they passed away. They’d love that there’s a child in their home.”

The Deetzes looked at her sympathetically. Delia handed her a Kleenex from her purse.

“Sorry.” Christine managed a smile. “You don’t need me eulogizing two people you never met.”

“I want to hear about them,” Merrick said. “I’ve been quite curious about them ever since discovering Barbara’s missives.”

 _‘Missives’? What a quirky little kid._ Christine wiped her nose quickly then slipped the Kleenex into the pocket of her jeans. “Okay, well, Adam was a history buff. They bought that house because of him. He was always restoring things for people, and he never let anyone pay him for all his hard work.”

“Yes, the home certainly had a great deal of rustic charm when I bought the place. I, ah, made a few changes to the interior when I took possession,” Charles said with, bizarrely, a hint of guilt.

“And Barbara....” What to say about her sister? “She loved having dinner parties. She was always meeting people and inviting them over. I always meant to go to more of them.” That was a lie. She’d hated those parties, watching everyone fawn over her perfect older sister. “She loved people, and they loved her right back.”

Delia touched her shoulder lightly. “They sound like wonderful people. We hope these letters bring you and your parents some comfort.”

She swallowed. “Thank you.”

The Deetzes said their goodbyes and left. The only sounds in the break room were Christine’s sniffles and the faint hum of the fridge.

She started reading Barb’s letter.

_Hi Chrissy, it’s Sissy._

_I’m working on my penmanship on the back porch on a beautiful July evening. A cool breeze from the east (the one direction that doesn’t smell like cows) is rattling the leaves of the old oak trees in the back yard. Adam made some iced tea. Right now, he’s sitting beside me making a checklist for our next Maitland Fixer Upper Challenge. Will it be grouting the tile in the main bathroom? Rewiring the kitchen? Insulating the basement? Who knows! That’s all part of the “fun” of living in such an old house._

Christine grabbed a Kleenex box from the break room counter. She couldn’t stop crying. _If I could go back in time and tell her to deal with the house’s termite problem.... God, what a stupid way to die._ She turned back to the letter.

_Something inspired me to pull out some old photo albums. I’m looking at a photo of you as one of the jurors in the gender-blind production of 12 Angry Men your senior year. You’re so confident on stage. You shine. I wish I knew what I loved the way you do. Oh, I take classes in lots of things, but that’s just to pass the time._

_I wish the actor life had been kinder to you. It’s still great to see you on stage, even if it’s “just” community theatre. You were a hilarious matchmaker in Fiddler! People in the audience kept saying you stole the show. Maybe you can spin your community work into something? You’re making so many connections._

Her sister’s wish had come true after more than a decade. Being an improv instructor at community rec centre in a mid-sized Connecticut town wasn’t Broadway, but who was rich and lucky enough to get on Broadway? _What would you say if you could see me now, Sissy? Former alcoholic, unmarried and a grocery clerk at 42. Mom and Dad worry. And they’re probably going to worry even more when I tell them about Tyler. He was supposed to help make their grandchildren, after all._

Barb had given her sister so many pep-talks in the months before she died, when Christine was giving up her dream of being a full-time actor. All those cheerful speeches had made Christine want to scream. Everything out of Barb’s mouth had had an air of smugness. Why shouldn’t she be smug? Her life had been perfect. Even the craziest thing she’d done, marrying her high school sweetheart at the age of 22, had resulted in a perfect marriage with a devoted partner.

The only thing that wasn’t perfect was Barb’s lack of a baby. Christine had needled her about that more than she liked to admit. It was the one thing she had on Barb. She’d wasted so much energy being jealous of Barbara. And then Barbara had died, and Christine had realized how much she missed those pep-talks. The brunches, the birthday presents, seeing Barb and Adam at all her shows (even the crappy ones), the hugs....

Just seeing her sister’s smile. Hearing her laugh. Did Christine remember what it sounded like, after all these years?

After using up a few Kleenexes, she kept reading.

_Chrissy, I’m so proud of you, and I love you so much. Somehow, it’s easier for me to write this out on a physical piece of paper than text you something this cheesy. I don’t even know if I’m going to send this to you._

_Remember when we were biking home from school and you fell in the ditch? Whenever I fell off my bike, I cried. You were a seven-year-old who’d tumbled four feet into a dirty creek. I would’ve cried my head off! You started to, but then you wiped your eyes, stared up, and started climbing out. You’re so determined and brave._

Christine had to look away from the letter; she was crying so hard she couldn’t see the words. _What a terrible example. I only did that because I heard you drop your bike and run to me. Nothing was scary when my big sister was looking out for me._

The letter went on for five more double-sided pages. Maybe Barb and Adam had had a glass of wine on their back porch, encouraging Barb to bare her soul. Christine could picture her sister, wearing a beautiful summer dress, writing in contented silence while Adam worked on another to-do list. The only sounds would have been the wind in the oak trees, the scratching of their pens, maybe some birdsong. She prayed Barb had been happy at that moment, perfectly content on a beautiful summer evening. She prayed that she’d been happy with all her classes, that she’d been happy with the constant house renovations, that all she’d felt was contentment and love.

She must have been so terrified when the floorboards gave out. _The coroner said the fall killed them instantly. If Barb was scared, it wasn’t for long. I hope she was happy every single second up until her death._

Christine blew into another Kleenex. Glancing at the clock, she realized it was almost 9:30 PM. _Time to lock up. No way I can put reading my dead sister’s letters in as overtime. I’ll read the rest back home._ Part of her wanted to stop off at the all-night liquor store on the way, but she wasn’t about to throw away her three-year sobriety chip just yet.

“I miss you, Sissy,” she said, gazing at the letter as if it could hear her. “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—”

No one responded, of course. The only sound in the room was the crappy break room fridge, humming faintly.

Christine put the manila folder in her bag and went to splash some water on her face before driving home.

* * *

“So,” Mother said, “that was Christine Bennet. What did you think of her, Melon?” Maitland and their living parents had spent the car ride to Muldare discussing a different name for Maitland, whose true name would have invited awkward questions. Somehow, ‘Melon’ had come up.

Maitland had to shut that down quickly. “I refuse to answer to that sobriquet, Mother.” They frowned. “Wait, no. I meant pseudonym, not sobriquet. Pseudonym means a false name; sobriquet means a nickname.” _They must think I'm so stupid._

"I didn't know that," Father said, pretending to sound impressed. "What book did you read those in?"

“The dictionary.” Sometimes, Maitland read the dictionary for fun.

Mother giggled. “Sorry, darling! No more ‘Melon.’ So, what do you think of Christine?”

 _Christine, the aunt who doesn’t know she’s my aunt._ “I thought she’d look younger.” Maitland had imagined a younger-looking Barbara, and been shocked to see a middle-aged woman, wrinkled and plump with greying hair. _I shouldn’t have been so surprised. My spectral mother died 14 years ago. I hate being so dumb._ “She seems nice. Do you think she’ll contact you?”

“I couldn’t say,” Mother said. “She’s under significant emotional distress right now. And we are essentially strangers to her.”

“Could we pretend we’ve found more of Barbara’s things in the attic?”

“We’d need to speak to Barbara about that.”

“Oh, right.” Barbara was quite reluctant to involve her sister in her spectral life. She would probably say no.

They watched the farmer’s fields pass by, playing with their hair as they did so. Their chest ached with sadness, which was nothing new. They passed the Winter River town sign. Maitland stifled a yawn. This was later than their bedtime.

Suddenly, a spectral figure reminiscent of Slender Man floated over the road 20 or so yards away.

“Jesus!” Father slammed on the breaks.

“Uncle!”

The car hadn’t come to a full stop when Father started accelerating. The slender ghost stared at them, neon green eyes widening more than humanly possible. The car ‘hit’ the ghost, which thumped and splattered green ectoplasm over the windshield.

“Beetlejuice, we need to see the road!” Mother shrieked.

The ectoplasm vanished a second later.

Uncle poofed beside Maitland. “Pretty scary, huh?”

Father glared at Uncle through the rearview mirror. “What was that?!”

“Winter River needs a good scary legend, don’tcha think? I can’t remember the last time I scared a ghost hunter! Or even a pack of edgy goth teens. Maybe they’ll try to summon me.” He chortled.

“Aren’t you worried about sandworms?” Maitland examined the sides of the road for the tell-tale black-and-white stripes.

“Pshh! Nothing I can’t handle.”

Ice settled in Maitland’s stomach. What if there had been too many sandworms to handle? What if they’d lost their uncle?

“Did you pull this stunt with other drivers?” Father demanded.

“Well, I mighta forgot what your car looked like.... But don’t worry, no one crashed! It’s all good.”

“It is not! It is _incredibly_ dangerous, demon.”

“And not just for the drivers,” Maitland added.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Uncle shrugged. “See you back home, breathers!” He poofed away, leaving the smell of rotted flesh behind.

Sighing heavily, Mother pulled out her phone, which chimed as she opened her recording app. “Talk to Beetlejuice about risk-seeking behaviour.”

“I thought the Maitlands had domesticated him,” Father growled.

“Please don’t talk about him as if he’s an animal, Charles. Centuries of maladaptive coping strategies aren’t going to vanish overnight.”

“Seems like he keeps coming up with new ones.”

“Risk-seeking was probably always there—we’ve just been very focused on ‘not murdering’ and reducing his rage. Actually, this might be a good thing. We’ve unearthed another layer!”

Father sighed. “Can’t we go one week without him tormenting us?”

What would have happened if they’d gotten into a car crash? _If I didn’t die,_ _I’d have four ghost parents. To the living world, I’d seem like an orphan. No one would let me live at home anymore—the police or the courts would make me move in with relatives. Would Lydia take me in? She has two roommates already. Does she have room for me? Would she even want to take care of me? What about my grandparents? I’d hate to move so far away.... And what if Father left for the Netherworld to find Emily? Would he say goodbye?_

They were so wrapped up in imagining what would happen if their parents died that they didn’t realize they’d arrived home until Mother said, “Maitland?”

“My apologies. I was wool-gathering.”

“Which is appropriate, since you’ll soon be counting sheep!” Mother said. She and Father laughed at her joke. Maitland chuckled politely.

Barbara, Adam and Uncle were waiting for them when they stepped inside, of course.

“How did it go?” Barbara asked, flanked by her husband and her boyfriend. “How was Chrissy?”

“She took the letters, Mother,” Maitland said. “We didn’t linger after we handed them to her.”

Delia added, “She mentioned that you enjoyed dinner parties, Barbara.”

Barbara looked surprised. “That’s what she remembers of me? I didn’t have _that_ many.... Adam and I just kept meeting so many interesting people at our classes, and we wanted an excuse to catch up with them.”

“That’s what she told three strangers, at least. Would you like to take part in a dinner party with some of my friends?”

Barbara smiled slightly. “Well, if anyone knows interesting people, it’s certainly you, Delia. Let me think about it?”

“Of course, darling.”

Maitland got ready for bed and bid their parents goodnight. Uncle appeared a few moments later, bobbing in mid-air beside Maitland’s bed. “What’d ya think of the spectre on the road, kid?”

“Your manifestation was rather reminiscent of Slender Man.”

“What?!” Beetlejuice frowned. After a few moments of opening and closing his mouth, he finally said, “Yeah, you caught me. I’m still warming up, okay?”

“Maybe I could draw something for you. We could work on an idea together.”

“Yeah! And maybe Lyds has ideas, too!”

“Oh.” Maitland tried not to frown. “I wasn’t aware you were in communication with her.”

“Not yet, but it’s been around a year since...um, you know. The marriage thing. Ahem. Time to start hanging out with her again. And this is a good excuse! A little ice breaker.”

Lydia would probably have much better ideas than Maitland. Then she and Uncle would be best friends again, and he’d return to ignoring Maitland. They cast around for something brilliant, but nothing came to mind until, “Perhaps there’ll be some examples in the _Handbook for the Recently Deceased_?"

Uncle’s gentle bobbing stopped. He tugged at his tie, clearing his throat. “Oh. Yeah. That thing.”

Maitland frowned. Why wasn’t Uncle summoning it? This was how it always went: Uncle would summon it and open it for Maitland, who would read it until they were too tired to read anymore.

“Sooooo, about the _Handbook_ , kid.... How ‘bout I just never open it for you again. Okay?”

Disappointment stung like acid in their gut. “I should have expected that.” It was in the house rules, after all. Once, Uncle had seen no issue with breaking that particular stricture. But ever since he’d become Adam and Barbara’s boyfriend, he’d been so irksomely good.

Uncle chuckled. “This is a good lesson, kid: adults will always disappoint you. You can’t depend on ‘em for anything.”

 _He’s right._ Maitland sighed heavily, flopping back onto their bed. Uncle was the only ghost in the house who would ever open the _Handbook_ for them. _There has to be some way I can convince him._

“I thought you were cool, Uncle.”

“Hey, I’ll still get you some booze and weed when you’re old enough!” Uncle frowned, floating down to Maitland’s level to look into their face. “As long as you don’t drink or smoke too much. I can make everything you drink taste like piss, remember. I’m a very powerful demon; I’ll do it.”

“I know, I know.” Sometimes, Uncle would say things to Maitland that weren’t really for Maitland. He’d mean them for his younger self or for his mother. Every time he mentioned all the fun they’d have when Maitland was older, he backtracked to remind them not to have too much fun.

“But I don’t want to drink or smoke, Uncle. Remember New Year’s?” Beetlejuice had snuck them some of Father’s brandy. Maitland had only managed to take a sip. “All I want is the _Handbook_.”

“It’s dangerous, kid! Breathers weren’t meant to have this kinda shit.” He shrugged. “‘Sides, you’ll get it when you die, anyway. It’ll happen sooner than you think.”

Maitland’s heart skipped a beat. “R—really? Did you have a premonition? Am I going to pass on soon?” They could see the Netherworld in their mind’s eye now, peaceful and perfect, with the greatest minds of the past available to learn from. They wouldn’t have to deal with Sophia stealing their solos in choir, or Terrence being the world’s worst partner during group projects, or worrying what to say all the time. It would be so wonderful....

It wasn’t that Maitland wanted to die, exactly. But death didn’t scare them. They knew exactly what would happen. They’d be a ghost with Uncle for a while. As a ghost, they could shapeshift. They could grow breasts when they were feeling particularly feminine. They wouldn’t have to worry about shaving. And if they were feeling masculine, changing their look would take only a heartbeat. It would be amazing.

Then, someday, they’d go to the Netherworld. Lydia and Father said the Netherworld was lonely. Uncle said it was boring. But Maitland liked being alone, and they didn’t mind boring. Life was too difficult and confusing. Sometimes, they’d pretend to be listening to music, but they’d lie in bed for hours thinking of all the dumb things they did that day and all the dumb things they were probably going to do the next day.

Maitland didn’t talk about that with anyone. What reason did they have to feel bad? Their family, both living and spectral, loved them and supported them in whatever they wanted. Everything in their life had been handed to them on a silver platter.

When they were younger, they'd pester Uncle for stories of his dismal childhood. They’d pushed and pushed, even when Uncle had snapped, or turned away, or even started crying. They’d been fascinated by how cruel parents could be to children in the real world, not just in books. They'd stopped traumatizing Uncle when they were eight. They'd apologized, and Uncle had shrugged the incidents off as if they'd never mattered. But Maitland knew they had.

Something was wrong with Maitland, broken deep inside them. It couldn't be changed. It was just how things were.

“A premonition? What?” Uncle shook his head, frowning. “No, kid. You’re not gonna die soon. I meant generally. Death always happens sooner than you think.”

Maitland felt a twinge of disappointment, and kept the feeling from appearing on their face. “You love my spectral parents more than me.”

“They give me certain things you can’t, kid. What can I say?” He chortled, putting his hands up in surrender. “I’m a weak man.”

“Do you mean sex?”

Uncle recoiled, eyes widening. “Jesus Christ!” He frantically made ‘quiet down’ gestures. “Who told you that word?!”

“My parents and my school. Sexual education was part of my health class. I’m 11 and going to go through puberty soon. Why shouldn’t I learn about sex?” Maitland wasn’t sure how they felt about puberty. They rubbed their cheek, imagining stubble thick as Uncle’s. Sometimes, they liked imagining that, and other times they didn’t. If they asked their parents for puberty blockers, they'd probably be able to afford them, but they weren't sure they wanted them yet.

“Woah! Not how sex ed was done in my day, that’s for sure. Only way a kid woulda found out about sex is if their priest or their stepdad—”

Suddenly, a red alarm appeared above Beetlejuice’s head, flashing furiously. A tiny, cartoonish-looking Barbara hovered over his shoulder. “Beetlejuice,” she squeaked, “is this appropriate for a child?”

Uncle shut his mouth quickly. After a few moments of deep thought, he turned to Maitland and said, “Maybe I won’t finish that sentence.” The alarm and tiny Barbara poofed away.

“As you wish, Uncle.” They nodded to where the cartoon Barbara had been. “I can see how being in love with my spectral parents might have...softened you.”

Uncle glowered at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m plenty badass, kid. Maybe I don’t want you thinking about death more than you already do.” He focused on the middle distance, which meant he was speaking to The Author. “Try to let Maity be their own character and not a copy of Lyds! Work harder!”

Maitland frowned. _A copy of Lydia? Hardly! I love singing, for one. And Lydia has reasons to be sad but she never is. I have no reason to be sad but I always am._

To Maitland, Uncle said, “You’re a breather. Go do breather shit. Don’t just stay in your room all the time! When we’re ghosts together, you’re gonna be begging me to leave this house.”

Maitland thought of something Christine had said. An idea began to form. “Perhaps I’ll take a course with Auntie Christine.”

“Auntie what now?”

“We bonded quite a lot when I gave her my spectral mother’s letters. I think she felt a connection to me. I certainly did with her.”

A twitch was developing under Uncle’s left eye. He chuckled roughly. “Oh really? C’mon, don’t try to bullshit a bullshitter, Maity. No way any of your parents will be okay with that.”

“They are, actually. On the drive back, Mother and Father mentioned they might ask her to be my tutor in the theatrical arts.”

“Babs’d shit a brick!”

“I won’t tell Auntie Christine my real name or anything about the afterlife. But why shouldn’t I get to know her? She’s family, after all. Besides, the thought of choir brings only ennui. Perhaps improv is the change I’ve been seeking.” Improv actually seemed terrifying, but Maitland was hardly about mention that.

Uncle growled then poofed away in a puff of red smoke. Maitland hugged their knees to their chest, hoping Uncle hadn’t called their bluff and gone to their living parents to corroborate their story. _I should’ve just said I thought about asking Christine to tutor me, not that Mother and Father brought it up. I’m such an idiot. Uncle is right to prefer my sister to me. Lydia never would have made that mistake. She’s perfect._ Maitland wanted to be their sister but sometimes they hated her. It was yet another reason they were broken.

Suddenly, Uncle poofed back into the room, the _Handbook for the Recently Deceased_ in hand. He opened it and tossed it to Maitland, who scrambled to catch the _Handbook_ without closing it.

“Still your favourite, kid?”

Maitland knew they should do the right thing and say that Uncle always had been, book or no book. It wasn’t right to manipulate him. But Uncle's pathetic neediness made them feel mean. He was just like every other adult in their life who’d learned all these amazing secrets of the afterlife but would never share them unless Maitland discovered them for themselves.

“Of course, Uncle. Thank you. I love you so much.”

Uncle smiled distractedly at Maitland before turning to the door. A few bugs skittered off him and snuck under the door to keep watch. That wouldn’t help if Barbara or Adam teleported into Maitland’s room, but both sets of Maitland’s parents respected their privacy. “Hurry up, will ya? Babs is getting ways too powerful these days. If she wanted to hide, my guys might miss her.”

So Maitland started reading the _Handbook for the Recently Deceased_.


	31. Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a year of a casual relationship with Beetlejuice, Barbara and Adam get more experimental...and Beetlejuice gets more involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: consensual rape fantasy (Beetlejuice pretending to be Adam with Barbara and Adam's consent)

Barbara lay on her bed reading _Home_ , Lydia and Claire’s self-published ‘zine. Lydia had contributed photos of old buildings, grimy alleyways, trash heaps and road kill; Claire had contributed death-centric poetry. For a ‘zine about death, it was doing pretty well—they’d sold 50 copies, and Claire and Lydia were going to a local art fair in a few weeks to sell some more.

The current poem she was reading was accompanied by photos of boxes in an attic, lit by a shaft of light from a nearby window. Dust motes danced in the pale sunlight. Lydia had taken the photos with the camera down low. The boxes loomed large so they looked like monoliths from some ancient civilization. Objects in the back were deep in shadow, eerie and unknown.

The poem was called “Whistle,” about Claire’s dead father, who’d passed away when she was eight.

_I found a whistle in a box of your old things_

_A silver comma_

_So I paused_

_Mom doesn’t know where it came from_

_I picture you blowing it while you refereed Little League_

_The crack of ball on bat_

_Plumes of dust_

_Young voices ringing_

_And you framing the game_

_You probably brought juice boxes for the team_

_(Did you think I would play one day? I’ve never picked up a bat. Sorry to disappoint.)_

_Mom doesn’t remember you being interested in baseball_

_Maybe the whistle was for a Halloween costume_

_Maybe you got it in a gift basket_

_Maybe you just found it and picked it up_

_The whistle is no comma_

_But an apostrophe_

_A contraction, a gap_

_A sound unsaid_

_You’re 21 years gone_

_Why am I still surprised at what you’ve left behind?_

Barbara wondered what Chrissy and her parents must be thinking of the letters Barbara had written for them. She set the ‘zine down and wiped away the tears gathering in her eyes. She wasn’t sure how much more she was going to read. She wasn’t up for brooding about death today. _Fortunately, “Adam” should be a good distraction._

Charles still hoped Lydia would become a world-famous artist, but she seemed happy as a mortician. “I don’t want to monetize my art,” she’d explained. “That’d take all the fun out of it.”

Lydia had come so far from the hurting teenage girl Barbara had first met. At 29, she had a steady job she cared about that allowed her time for her hobbies, and she was working to make the world a better place. She was now a trainer for the teen-suicide hotline she’d been volunteering with for years, and her relationship with Claire was reaching the one-year mark. Barbara was glad to have helped in her own small way.

Lydia and Beetlejuice were now friends again. Before they reunited, Barbara and Adam had been frantically planning. They’d anticipated talking Beetlejuice down from a jealous rage when he found out about Lydia and Claire. Instead, Beetlejuice had just commented that he’d hung out with Lydia one particularly dull Sunday afternoon, and that was that. Mentioning Claire and Lydia’s relationship made him scowl and grumble that Claire wasn’t good enough for Lydia, but he’d made it clear that if Lydia wanted Claire, he wasn’t going to do anything to separate them. If Beetlejuice and Lydia didn’t hang out as much as they had before he’d proposed marriage, their friendship seemed to have reached a balance that worked for both of them.

The Maitland-Deetz adults had had a breakthrough with Maitland. One balmy spring evening, when they were stargazing with Adam, they’d mentioned some anxieties around puberty. “I don’t want everyone to look at me and see a man in a dress,” they’d said, tears welling up in their eyes. “I don’t want _myself_ to see that, either. I just want to look like me.”

Adam, ever the perfectionist, wasn’t proud of his performance as a parent. “And suddenly everything I’d read about dysphoria left my head,” he’d admitted to Barbara later. “I can’t remember the last time they’ve been so open with us. I just froze up! All I did was hug them and I told them that we love them, and we were open to having conversations about their feelings about their body. I wish I’d thought of something better.”

“You did the best you could,” Barbara had said, squeezing Adam’s hand. “Maybe a hug and an ‘I love you’ were exactly what they needed to hear?”

He’d grumbled, “They were crying so hard they went to their room to calm down. They should’ve talked to you about this. You’re the one who’s good with emotions.”

“Sounds like someone’s trying to ‘fix’ people’s emotions again,” she’d said lightly. That tendency of his popped up whenever he was under stress.

“Oh, you’re right. Sorry, I didn’t notice. But it hurt so much to see them like that. I just wanted to make it all better for them.”

“Poor Maity. That must’ve been eating away at them for so long.” They’d always been a solitary child who loved school, so their parents hadn’t noticed any major signs of anxiety like pulling away from friends or failing tests. But looking back on it, hadn’t they seemed a little more distracted and distant lately?

Many parenting meetings and discussions with Maitland later, the family had ordered two pairs of silicone breast prostheses, one small and the other the next size up, for them to wear during puberty. Charles and Delia were also talking to Maitland’s pediatrician and a psychiatrist about puberty blockers.

The prostheses had arrived a month ago, and Maitland was overjoyed. Having the prostheses had inspired them to update their wardrobe, which had, after a shopping trip with Delia and Lydia, inspired Maitland’s 13th birthday party to be a fashion show. They even invited some kids from school, which was rare for them. Maitland had Adam and Charles’ planning skills and eye for detail, and spent every day after school and most of their weekends planning their outfits and the show itself. The whole family had gotten involved, including Lydia and Claire, and would be showing off outfits as well.

Maitland didn’t even want birthday presents. “Puberty blockers are so expensive,” they’d mused at the dinner table. “I’m very fortunate we can afford them. Perhaps, in lieu of gifts, we can ask people to donate to charities for transgender youth?”

Barbara had had to stop herself from teleporting beside them and giving them the world’s biggest hug. How had the Maitland-Deetzes wound up with such a good kid?

Adam entered the bedroom, smiling when he saw her. It was 11 AM, and the Deetzes were at work and school, respectively.

“How’s the book?” he asked.

“Lydia’s photos really make an impression.”

Adam chuckled more loudly than he usually did. “You hate it.”

“I don’t! It’s just not really for me. But I’m sure Lydia and Claire’s target audience loves it. And it’s probably starting some great conversations about death and how society thinks about it.”

“Don’t worry, honey—” he began to gesture dismissively, then stopped himself and dropped his hand to his side “—I won’t tell.”

“How’s the _Buffy_ rewatch with Beetlejuice going?”

“Awesome! We just crushed Season 5, and absolutely no one cried when Buffy died. Why would they? She comes back, duh!” Adam paused, perhaps hearing some Beetlejuice slipping into his dialogue. He kept his arms tight to his sides as he said, “I cannot wait to show Beetlejuice the musical episode in Season 6. He will love it.”

“Did Beetlejuice tell you his plans for today?”

“Eh, who cares?”

 _Weird—I thought Beetlejuice would love to talk about himself._ She’d assumed he’d either use this opportunity to talk about how handsome he was or to make Barbara jealous. “I care. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

“Really? Aww.” He cleared his throat. “Well, he mentioned something about ‘two girls, one cup’—”

“As long as he’s having fun and keeping out of trouble,” Barbara said quickly.

Adam’s lips twitched, fighting back what Barbara assumed was a smirk.

Barbara gasped as if she’d just remembered something. “Oh, the funniest thing happened earlier: our first dance song came on the oldies station! I haven’t thought of our wedding in years. Why don’t we listen to it now?”

Adam stared at her, his smile frozen on his face. “Now?”

“What else do we have going on? Come on, bring it up on the phone, sweetie.” Adam always had the Maitlands’ phone.

Adam kept staring at her. She smiled innocently back. _He said he wanted to improv._

After a few moments, Adam grinned toothily. “Of course, Barbara! I’ll do that! Right now!” He turned away from her to look it up.

Cutting him some slack, Barbara returned to reading _Home_. There was the tiniest whirr of insect wings. If she hadn’t been listening for something, she probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“You _do_ remember our wedding, don’t you?” Barbara asked.

“Of COURSE—” he caught himself “—sweetie.”

Another whirr of insect wings, and Adam muttered “Aha!” A few moments later, Kelly Clarkson’s “A Moment Like This” played over the phone.

Adam tossed the phone on the bed in a very careless, un-Adam-like way. “Let’s dance!” He reached out to her, then stopped himself. He’d look much more natural if he didn’t keep stopping his gestures. Did Beetlejuice think Adam never moved his arms?

“Great idea!” She set the ‘zine on the nightstand and stepped into her husband’s arms. As they swayed from side to side, she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and his hands rested on her waist and arm.

 _Beetlejuice gets bored so quickly._ _Will he be able to handle a slow-dance for the entire song?_ He surprised her again by seeming happy to stare into her eyes and sway with her.

Barbara and Adam’s wedding had been so beautiful. They’d had a rustic outdoor wedding at the Hobson’s barn, lit by the warm glow of countless of fairy lights. Barbara used her ghostly powers to create her wedding dress, a white ballgown with layers of airy tulle. She reached her powers out to Adam; he resisted momentarily before his ghostly energy surrendered. She put him in his black tuxedo with vintage pearl cufflinks and a sunflower-yellow pocket square. 

“You’re so handsome,” she whispered.

“You’re perfect. That day was perfect.”

That was an easy enough guess. Of course, he didn’t know about the officiant calling them the “Midlands”; or needing to keep Adam’s uncle away from the open bar; or Dad’s rambling, 40-minute long wedding speech. But all those imperfections had vanished during that first dance with her new husband.

Beetlejuice-Adam was, surprisingly, as sweet as the real one. He didn’t even grope her, though she kept expecting it. Instead, he just smiled and stared into her eyes. On Kelly Clarkson’s final note, he kissed her tenderly. _Maybe a first dance at a wedding is a new experience for him. Was he married when he was alive?_

She deepened the kiss, fisting her hands in his hair and pulling him closer. Unsurprisingly, he happily followed her lead, and squeezed her ass harder than Adam usually would. Barbara changed her wedding dress to the sexy lingerie she’d worn on their one-year anniversary. _Or should I just go naked? I’m not 23 anymore…._ She could hear Delia’s voice: “No, darling, no body shaming today!” So she tried not to think about how hot she’d looked when she was 23. She’d died at 32, with all the lumps and rolls of someone who’d meant to go to the gym more.

Adam grunted in surprise at the feel of different fabric beneath his fingers. He pulled out of the kiss to eye her up and down, grinning. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before coming up with, “Nice, Barbara.”

_I wish I could love my body as much as Adam and Beetlejuice do. Something to work on, now that I have the time. You’d think being a ghost would make it easier to get society’s voices out of my head._

“Thanks. Now get on the bed, mister.”

Beetlejuice could never be Adam in the small details, but he knew the broad strokes: he did what Barbara said, looking to her for permission as his hand moved to his belt.

“No, I’ll take care of that.” She posed, thrusting out her breasts and running her hands gently over her thighs. “Just lie back and relax, sweetie.”

Adam did, folding his hands behind his head, wriggling slightly in excitement. “What did I do to deserve this?”

She’d planned on teasing him that she wanted to prove herself to Adam after Adam’s solo session with Beetlejuice last month. But now that she was in the moment, introducing a competition between her and Beetlejuice didn’t seem right. “Nothing specific. I just want to.”

Barbara posed a few more times as she approached the bed, tossing her hair back and swaying her hips to show off her body in her lingerie. She felt a little silly, but her audience definitely seemed to enjoy it.

She straddled him then kissed his lips, the same way she’d do with Adam. When he reached up to touch her, she guided his hand back behind his head. “Relax,” she murmured. She unbuttoned his shirt, only letting him move his arms enough to slide out of it and his undershirt. Beetlejuice knew Adam’s body impressively well—not a hair was out of place. She kissed and stroked slowly downward, feeling his stomach tighten beneath her lips and fingers.

He was squirming by the time she slid his pants and underwear down mid-thigh, his penis hard. Beetlejuice was surprisingly accurate. She’d wondered if he would make Adam’s penis a bit smaller than it actually was as part of his dumb competition with her husband. She stroked up and down his thighs, squeezed his ass, and brushed against his balls gently. Adam would enjoy the build-up.

Beetlejuice did not. “Baby—” he grumbled, before catching himself.

She didn’t want to tease him too much. She took him in her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head before licking and kissing her way down the shaft. His stomach and thigh muscles tightened as he grunted. She played with his balls as she sucked the tip and the upper shaft. Being a ghost, she could deep-throat him with no problem, though she’d never been able to do it while she was alive. Beetlejuice would’ve been complaining about their “boring breather” sex by now. But, sometimes, Barbara and Adam just wanted to pretend they were still alive.

“That’s so good, Barbara.” That sounded a lot like Adam—his cadence, his tone, everything. That was interesting. Adam and Barbara sometimes made love with Beetlejuice watching. She’d always assumed he wasn’t paying that much attention when they did so. “I love you.”

“Aww.” She sucked even harder, pressing against his taint.

“So much,” he added thickly.

He came a few moments later; cold semen gushed down her throat. Usually, Adam was considerate enough to warm it as much as he could before he came. Beetlejuice usually forgot. Barbara had long ago decided to treat it as a little quirk. Beetlejuice had been ice cold for centuries, after all. She could hardly expect him to remember all the little things about being alive.

Adam sighed, beaming at her. It was such a good impression that Barbara felt a rush of pride and love and lust. “That was amazing.” 

“Thank you!” She slid up his body, and he quickly brought his arms around her, stroking her hair. They kissed, gazing into each other’s eyes.

 _Wait, his eyes aren’t Adam’s._ Beetlejuice’s eyes were slightly darker brown than her husband’s. It was subtle, but she knew the difference by now. _Well, that’s flattering. I thought he’d be bored with me and Adam’s usual thing._

It didn’t take long before he slid his hand along her back and squeezed her ass. “Can I show you my appreciation?” he asked in between kisses.

“You certainly can.”

He kept kissing her while his hand slid beneath her panties to stoke her pleasure. She moaned in encouragement, having enough presence of mind to get wet and start sweating. He kissed her cheeks, her chin, her forehead, her neck. He nipped along her throat, making her gasp. One hand caressed the back of her neck while his other rubbed circles against her clit. He knew what she liked by now; she shuddered, panting in pleasure, and kissed him deeply. She ran her fingers through his hair. Was it getting a bit longer than usual?

She closed her eyes to focus on the pleasure thrumming across her nerves. Gently, Adam rolled her over, so she lay prone beneath him. She ran her fingers up and down his lean back, raising her head to whisper in his ear, “Harder, I’m almost—”

He did what she wanted, and the connection between her brain and mouth stopped. He guided her head back down to the pillow, murmuring, “Shh, relax, Babs.”

Barbara grunted questioningly as he kissed along the side of her neck. God, she was almost there. “Barbara,” she stage-whispered.

“No, baby—” Adam’s voice became smokier and raspier “—it’s definitely Babs.”

The back beneath her fingers was suddenly much fleshier. Her eyes sprang open, revealing a shirtless Beetlejuice grinning toothily. His fingers, now thicker than they had been, pressed against her clit and her orgasm washed over her.

She bit her lip to stop a whimper, bolted upright and scrambled off the bed. “Beetlejuice!” The demon let her go, watching her eagerly. She yanked the duvet up to cover herself. A second later, she remembered she was a ghost and manifested her usual sundress. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Surprising you, baby!” Suddenly, he was wearing his usual black-and-white striped suit. “Ha! And you never suspected a thing.”

“Well, I have a few notes….”

He blinked in surprise then scowled. “Maybe you just didn’t get the subtlety of my portrayal, Barbara.” He only used her full name when she’d really annoyed him.

“Ahem. Not the point. The point is: how dare you!”

“Oh, right. The point is that I’m evil!” Thunder crashed and neon green lightning struck behind him. The room darkened with unnatural shadows. He grew fangs and his black nails became claws. His vertical hair parted to look like two pointed horns. “ ** _Muahahahahaha!_** ” he howled, his voice echoing with demonic reverb.

When they’d discussed this scene, he’d been eager for her to slap him. Now seemed as good a time as any. She wound up and slapped him across the right cheek.

He rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “Way harder, baby,” he whispered. “According to you, I just raped you.”

Did they have to have this conversation again? “Um, not just ‘according to me.’ Pretending to be my husband is rape. Period.”

“I can’t keep up with your MeToo bullshit, bitch!”

She slapped him hard enough to snap his head to the side.

“Oh, _yeah_ , baby…. Um, Harvey Weinstein did nothing wrong!”

She slapped him hard enough to completely rotate his head 360 degrees. His eyes rolled around in his skull few a moments before he shook his head, giggling softly.

Spending some power, Barbara found herself floating on the other side of the bedroom. “It’s time to stop you once and for all, demon!”

Beetlejuice’s eyes glowed Netherworld green. “Stop me? You dumbass baby-ghost. You can’t even fucking catch me!”

And, suddenly, he became a swarm of bugs. Barbara’s skin crawled, but she’d been expecting something like that. _What fights bugs? Maybe birds?_ She closed her eyes, summoning memories of filling the bird feeder in the back yard. Robins, chickadees and starlings used to visit before Charles had taken the feeder down when he first bought the house.

At a cheerful “chicka-dee-dee-dee!” she opened her eyes to see a bunch of adorable little songbirds hunting the bugs down, snatching them in midair and singing sweetly.

Until the first of them was eaten by a black-and-white striped snake that appeared out of nowhere. The bugs vanished seconds later. Barbara quickly vanished the rest of her birds. She had no idea what kind of animal could fight a snake and win. _Then again, it’s not like I have to be realistic…._

Recalling both her horse-girl past and her sixth birthday party, Barbara summoned an original _My Little Pony_ -style unicorn that was bright pink, with a yellow mane and tail, and a birthday cake on its haunches.

The snake stared at Barbara, stared at the unicorn, then rolled its neon-green eyes.

The unicorn pawed at the air, neighing, “By the power of Grayskull!” as it shot a rainbow out of its horn at the snake. _I might be getting some of my childhood shows mixed up. Oh well. As long as it works._

The rainbow hurt—the snake became a charred black length with blinking green eyes. It tumbled into a pile of ash and blew away.

The shadows in the room deepened as Barbara thanked the unicorn and vanished it. Taking a deep breath, she reached deep inside herself and started glowing. 

His hand was in her hair. Clawed nails dug into her scalp. 

Shrieking in surprise, she whirled around. He was too close. If she’d had a heart, it would have been hammering.

His hand fisted her hair, keeping her head from moving. She could see her face, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, reflected in his widening black pupils. His lips went slack, and he hissed softly. His cold breath slid over her lips and chin, where he’d been kissing only a few moments ago.

“ ** _Scared?_** ” he rumbled, his voice deep and staticky, gaze locked on her intently.

And part of her was scared. Since when did Beetlejuice say one word when he could monologue? And there was no hint of theatricality, just this intense hunger…. _He’s a demon who hasn’t gotten to scare people lately. Maybe this has triggered something inside him? Maybe he’s actually going to hurt me?_ Her safeword sprang to her mind—and she started focusing her power, in case he was too far gone.

The demon’s lips curved, baring yellow, pointed fangs. “ ** _Scared. Hrr. Nice._** ” His eyes flashed green. He grabbed her chin and wrenched her head up so he could stare into her eyes.

He’d tried to exorcise her once. It had felt like every atom was being torn apart. _No. That was years ago._ He wasn’t that person now. She had to believe that. _Oh, God, he’s going to be so upset when we come out of this scene…._

To apologize, she stroked his cheek. “No, I’m not scared,” she whispered. “You won’t hurt me.”

She kissed him to prove that she meant it. He grunted then started kissing her back. Relief washed over her. She’d been right.

“Cut!” came a voice to her left.

She pulled out of the kiss to see another Beetlejuice sitting in a director’s chair, with a megaphone at his mouth. A cameraman Beetlejuice turned a camera off and wandered over to a craft services table which had suddenly appeared. Her and Adam’s bedroom now looked like a set on a large sound stage. Beetlejuice hadn’t mentioned he was going to do this, but you didn’t live with a chaotic shapeshifter for more than a decade without learning to roll with the weirdness.

The Beetlejuice she’d been kissing stepped back, allowing a makeup-artist Beetlejuice to powder his face.

Director Beetlejuice sighed. A script appeared on his lap. “Babs, your line is ‘No, because I know I’ll defeat you.’ Or some hero bullshit like that.”

“Oh.” Well, this was embarrassing. “Sorry, I started overthinking it.”

“I mean,” said the Beetlejuice she’d been kissing—Actor Beetlejuice, she called him—”if you want to keep kissing, I’m down!”

Director Beetlejuice perked up. “Hey, yeah, if you want to film a porn, we can do that! Guys,” he shouted to some crew members, “let’s close the set.”

“No thanks,” Barbara said.

Director Beetlejuice tilted his head. “Keep the set open? Ooo, Babs, kinky.”

“No thanks on the porn in general.” She reached over and squeezed Actor Beetlejuice’s butt. He gave a pleased hum. “I’m still good from what we just had.” Actor Beetlejuice adjusted his tie and worn suit cuffs as he beamed at the clones on set, as if making sure everyone had heard that.

She looked back at Director Beetlejuice. “So, can we take it again from my big hero line?”

Director Beetlejuice grumbled something, then shouted, “Okay, from Act 2 Scene 3.”

Actor Beetlejuice stood in front of her, putting one hand in her hair and the other under her chin.

“And—” Director Beetlejuice began.

Actor Beetlejuice kissed her quickly. She giggled. He winked at her.

“Oh, Jesus, get in character, you two!” Director Beetlejuice growled. “Action!”

Director Beetlejuice, the camera, the soundstage, and the various other clones vanished in an instant. They were back in her and Adam’s bedroom, with deepening shadows and a green-eyed demon hissing at her.

“No, I’m not scared,” she repeated. “I know I can defeat you.” She made her hair incorporeal so it phased through his fingers, then, summoning a huge blast of power, telekinetically slammed him into the far wall.

Beetlejuice let himself be flung, landing against the wall with an “Ooof!” He glowered at her, floating in mid-air. “ ** _Die!_** ”

When she, Beetlejuice and Adam had negotiated this scene, Beetlejuice had told her he wasn’t going to make it too easy for her. He became fire, water, a lingering stench, a splatter of blood, a dark form she could only see out of the corner of her eye. Barbara struggled to keep up with ways to trap him. She defaulted to a lot of what she’d learned from Delia, manifesting protective crystals and stones. Beetlejuice rolled his eyes a few times, but still reared back and pretended to be hurt.

But eventually, she won. She stood over him, glowing bright, while he was chained on the floor in front of her, hissing, spitting and growling.

“You’ll never hurt anyone again, Beetlejuice,” she said. The chains started glowing, their light eating into Beetlejuice. For the first time, the demon looked afraid.

“Are you okay?” she stage-whispered.

He shot her a grin before looking scared again.

“Oh, whew.” So, she let the light-chains eat away at him until he vanished, leaving only the smell of rotting flesh behind.

Now that he wasn’t right in front of her, she was feeling pretty drained. She plopped down on her bed, and was only slightly startled when Beetlejuice popped into existence beside her, wearing boxers with skulls on them and an undershirt.

“Cuddles help baby-ghosts deal with power loss,” he said.

“Really?” She smirked. “I don’t remember that from _The Handbook for the Recently Deceased_.”

“It’s in one of the chapters in the back.”

She held her arms out and, after a bit of adjusting, she had her head resting on his shoulder, his arms around her, and her hands gently stroking his hair.

“So, how was that for you?” she asked.

“Heh, it was great!”

“Even without getting to alter the house?” Making her run through a Carnival of the Damned had come up a few times while the three negotiated this.

“What, that?” He shrugged. “Guess I didn’t need it that much.” He sighed happily then kissed her forehead. “I just needed you. Shit, baby, you look so good when you come. You know you’re my favourite person with the last name Maitland?”

“Aw, that’s so sweet. It’d be sweeter if Adam hadn’t told me you told him the exact same thing in your first solo session with him.”

He frowned. “Adam, you goddamn snitch!” Then he grinned. “Oh well. You caught me. Don’t be jealous, babe—you’re better than him.”

“Since our relationship with you isn’t a competition, that doesn’t matter to me.” Beetlejuice loved egging on competition between the Maitlands. So far, it was all in good fun—cute games like ‘How Many Times Can You Kiss a Demon?’ and a few raunchier ones. She and Adam were keeping an eye on that behaviour to make sure it didn’t get out of hand.

“You guys are so weird,” he said fondly.

“Or we’re just secure in our relationship.” Which had come from quite a few couples therapy sessions with Delia.

“Exactly! Weird!”

_Stability probably is weird to him, from what I know of his past._

“Adam tell you what we did?” Beetlejuice continued eagerly. He couldn’t stay still; he started stroking her hair with one hand and drumming his fingers along her thigh with the other.

“He kept it vague. I know it was something nerdy. If you two want to keep it a secret, you don’t have to—”

“I boned him as the 10th Doctor! I made the TARDIS, but I made a bunch of things wrong…well, and I also kinda forgot stuff. That show’s practically older than me! I can’t remember everything! I annoyed him so much that he actually used his power to make things canon compliant. And then I pounded him against the TARDIS console. He could barely talk after.

“I’m thinking wing-fic next time. A little Aziraphale/Crowley action….”

“Oh, I know that one! _Supernatural_ , right?”

“Yeah! You should tell Adam; he’d love to hear how nerdy you’re getting. I was also thinking of some alpha-omega stuff if he’s up for it….”

“I have no idea what that means.”

He chortled. “One day, I’m gonna explain knotting to you, and that’s gonna be great. Probably just for me, but it’s gonna be great.”

“Thanks for the heads up, I think?” At least he wasn’t blurting out weird sex stuff.

The demon startled. “Oh, shit, wait.” He cleared his throat. “Um, also, how are things with you after all that? I know that scene was darker than you usually go.”

“Thanks for remembering, buddy.” Checking in with his partners emotionally wasn’t something Beetlejuice did naturally, but he was working on it. 

He grinned. “Only took me five minutes this time!”

“And, well, I’m good. Tired but satisfied. With both the sex and the fight.”

“You didn’t really have any notes, did ya? About me being Adam?” Before she could answer, he said, “You probably didn’t. And…thanks. I know you coulda asked Adam to pretend to be me. I mean, he woulda sucked, but still. Cutting loose with the scary shit was awesome.”

“That kind of power-play isn’t part of mine and Adam’s dynamic.”

Beetlejuice grimaced as if she’d said something unpleasant, opened his mouth, then shut it. His fingers rubbed circles on the duvet and he breathed in and out—another of Delia’s mindfulness techniques.

“Beetlejuice? Is everything okay?”

Instantly, his mood shifted back to post-sex cheerfulness. “Sure, baby. So…maybe this can be our thing. For however long this thing we got lasts.”

“I’d like that.” She frowned, concerned. “’For however long this lasts?’” Barbara wished she hadn’t sounded so surprised. Intellectually, she knew that Beetlejuice got bored easily. And she and Adam had always known they weren’t Beetlejuice’s ideal type.

 _I just thought we had more time with him._ She’d miss the cuddles, the sweetness, the jolt of fresh feeling that had deepened her and Adam’s relationship. She’d even miss the eye-rolling, swearing, and snapping, now that she knew how much of a secret softy he was. “Are you hinting at something?”

Beetlejuice’s eyebrows rose then he chuckled. “You and Adam are so equally boring, sometimes I forget you’re different people. After our solo sesh, I joked with him about dumping you guys, and he just gave me ‘concerned’ face and cuddled me more.

“I’ve seen what being dead does for relationships. Spoiler alert: nothing lasts. ‘Least not in the Netherworld. Maybe true love or whatever you two adorable dummies have, I dunno, but definitely not what we three got.” He said that so easily, as if it didn’t bother him at all. “But, hey,” he smacked her ass lightly, “long as the sex is fun, I’m here for you guys.”

“I’m glad.” Maybe she shouldn’t have kissed him after that, to try to keep things casual, but she did. _Were we ever really good at keeping things casual?_

This was definitely something to talk about with during her and Adam’s next couple’s counselling session with Delia.

They only stopped kissing when the Maitlands’ phone chimed. ‘Dinner Prep’ flashed on the screen. Maitland would be coming home from school an hour after that, and she wanted to help them get started on their studying.

“Sorry, I have to go.”

As she started to sit up, Beetlejuice’s undershit enveloped her, pinning her to his chest and stopping her from leaving his side. “Or not!” He flashed her his most charming grin. “I know you and Adam wanna do the happy homemaker thing for Maity, but c’mon! Playing hooky once doesn’t mean you don’t love ‘em.”

“Well….” It would be nice to stay in bed a bit longer. “Wait, I’m a ghost, damnit! I can do both.”

It took a few moments of focusing on dinner, but soon a clone of herself stood in front of her in a chef’s outfit and hat.

“Could you please go downstairs and help Adam with dinner? Oh, and if Maitland starts asking you questions, please remind them about their big math quiz tomorrow.” Maitland would probably pepper the clone with questions otherwise. Math was the only subject they’d received lower than an A in.

“Of course,” the clone chef said.

“Thanks so much. Oh, and please tell Adam I love him!”

Strangely, Beetlejuice didn’t chime in with something crude. The clone looked at her oddly—which was fair, she was in bed with another man—but nodded and went downstairs.

She turned her head to see Beetlejuice’s eyes much too large in his head, lit from some unknown light source. It reminded her of some of those manga characters Claire had told her about.

“Beetlejuice?”

“You sent the clone to your husband and stayed here with me!”

And suddenly Barbara could see him crowing about that in front of Adam as part of some obnoxious rivalry. _Time to nip this in the bud._ She gently extricated herself from his undershirt. “You’re right. You caught me. I do want to play hooky. But this doesn’t mean that I don’t care about my husband—”

Red sparks bloomed in Beetlejuice’s brown eyes as he snapped, “Yes, Barbara, I know you’ll always choose Adam over me! Jesus! I’m not an idiot!” He closed his mouth, eyes widening as he pulled away from her.

 _Oh. So_ that’s _what this is about._ She felt silly that she hadn’t pieced it together earlier.

She and Adam had talked about jealousy. It had come up between her and Adam now and then, and they’d assumed it would come up with Beetlejuice. The honeymoon phase had to end sometime. She felt a twinge of guilt that she had to let Beetlejuice in on a conversation she and Adam had already had without him.

Beetlejuice cringed so much he began shrinking. A few seconds later, he was a beetle. He raised his wings to fly away.

At least all her conversations with Adam meant she could quietly, calmly say, “You don’t have to leave, Beetlejuice.” She held her hand out, palm up. The beetle wiggled his antennae at her before crawling over her fingers. Somehow, even as a beetle, he managed to look embarrassed.

“Would you like to come with us to couple’s therapy?” she asked.

A retching noise emanated from the beetle.

“Or all three of us could have a conversation together. Jealousy happens in these kinds of situations all the time. It’s natural, and it’s something we can talk about. Your needs are just as important as mine and Adam’s.”

“The only need I have is to bang,” the beetle grumbled in a high-pitched voice.

“Right, of course. But if you have others—or if your needs have changed—we want to hear from you.”

Beetlejuice gripped his antennae with his forelegs, wailing in frustration. “It’s—I just—”

“Yes?”

“I thought this was a goddamn PWP chapter! They’re my favourite kind! I’d even take some fluff! Not this bullshit bait-and-switch chapter. That’s just bad writing! Everyone leave bad reviews!”

“Reviews?”

The beetle flopped down on her hand. “Forget it. Just forget it. And now this chapter’s gonna end awkwardly. So that’s great.”

He wasn’t wrong about this moment being awkward.


	32. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armed with new knowledge, Barbara and Adam discuss their future with Beetlejuice.

Adam closed the book he was reading when Barbara came into the basement after dinner. Charles and Delia were having a date night at a fancy restaurant a few towns over. Beetlejuice and Maitland were Facetiming with Lydia in the living room, since Maitland had studied for their math test when they got home. Maitland was probably giving them details about their 13th birthday party, a fashion show for the whole family.

“How did it go?” Adam asked.

“It was interesting, that’s for sure.” She sat down on the couch beside him, kissing his cheek. She tucked her legs up underneath her and leaned against him.

Adam chuckled. “I had ‘Time Warp’ stuck in my head most of the day.” The entire scenario of Beetlejuice pretending to be Adam had been prompted by watching _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ one lazy Sunday afternoon. After Barbara and Adam had explained to Beetlejuice that Dr. Frank-N-Furter pretending to Brad and Janet when he seduced the couple was, in fact, a massive violation of consent, Barbara had brought up the idea how it wouldn’t violate consent if the couple had known it was actually Frank-N-Furter. The idea had grown from there.

Barbara looked into Adam’s eyes. “Are you up for a conversation about Beetlejuice?”

Adam nodded. “I’ve been thinking we were due for one.” He inhaled slowly, then said, “He’s going to dump us soon.”

Barbara blinked a few times. “Oh. Here I was thinking he was falling in love with us.”

It was Adam’s turn to blink. “Well, you always were a lot more optimistic than me. Why do you think that?”

“He just made a few comments while we were cuddling after.” They both knew how chatty Beetlejuice got after sex. “He’s getting pretty jealous of what you and I have. He wants something more from us. Of course, once he let that piece of info slip, he absolutely refused to engage.”

“I see. And when I was alone with him, he kept bringing up how he was going to leave us.”

“Right, he mentioned he’d made a joke or two about that. He also mentioned a bit about what you two did together.”

“I figured he might. I didn’t expect him to keep it a secret. As long as he’s just telling you, I’m fine.”

“Good. So, it’s possible and not particularly surprising that Beetlejuice himself doesn’t know what he wants.”

“It’s a difficult scenario to navigate.”

Barbara couldn’t think of any response. Adam brought his arm over her shoulders, his fingers brushing up and down her upper arm. She tilted her head back against his arm. How many times had they sat like this?

She and Adam were silent, the kind of silent only ghosts could be. There was no breathing, no gurgling stomachs, no slight shifts of weight or clicking joints. A bellow of Beetlejuice’s laughter sounded from upstairs. He and Maitland started talking loudly and animatedly. Barbara still worried that Maitland didn’t seem to have close friends outside of their family, but no one could say that their family wasn’t there for them.

Barbara had started this conversation, but she found she wasn’t in a rush to finish it. _I shouldn’t have said anything. We could just wait for Beetlejuice to bring up whatever the heck he’s feeling. We might be making a mountain out of a molehill._

Adam surprised her by breaking the silence. “So…what would we do if Beetlejuice asked to be our boyfriend? Do you mind if I go first?”

“Sure.”

“Unfortunately, we have to separate. The three of us together doesn’t make sense, right? We’re all very different people. He’s more our…our project than he is our partner. We’d barely last a month. And we’re not experienced with polyamory. We’re monogamous…well, emotionally monogamous. Beetlejuice is just for fun. That’s the only reason we started this, because he was totally emotionally unavailable.”

“You’re right. Those are all very good points. I mean, of course it’s natural that he’d want something more. But that doesn’t have to be with us. It’s kind of self-centred of us to think that it should be with us, right? Like we’re the only ones who can make him happy. There’s tons of people out there for him.”

“Exactly.” He held her hand, looking into her eyes. “You’re my wife. I swore to honour and cherish you. If I had to choose between you two, of course you’d be my choice.”

She squeezed his hand and leaned in to kiss him. She knew his lips and mouth as well as her own. When they were done, she rested her forehead against his. “I love you, Adam Maitland. And Beetlejuice deserves someone who will choose him first above everyone else.”

Barbara leaned away, just enough to see Adam’s face and stroke his cheek. So that was it, then. Barbara wished she felt more settled. All she could think was _Poor Beetlejuice. I’m going to miss him so much…._

“And, you know,” Adam said, “maybe watching the two of us together has given him a template of what a healthy relationship looks like. He can bring that knowledge into whatever relationship he has next.”

“That assumes he listens to us when we talk,” Barbara joked.

He chuckled. “You’re right, you’re right, it’s a pretty big assumption.”

She felt so safe with Adam. She could talk about anything with him. He was the soulmate she’d chosen day in and day out. So many people spent their whole lives looking for what she and Adam had.

 _I’m afraid_ , Barbara realized. She reviewed her and Adam’s conversation, now hearing fear instead of certainty. _If the conversation ends here, we stay safe, and nothing changes. I don’t run the risk of losing my husband. I don’t run the risk of changing what we have._ It was so greedy to want more.

Then she thought about Beetlejuice again. He was just a lonely demon looking for love. He’d come so far from the person he’d been when they first met him, and he was trying every day to be good. And, heck, he was fun, imaginative and playful. _What if we don’t have to turn him away?_

Barbara inhaled deeply, then said the words that might end her marriage: “So, here’s another question: what if we don’t dump Beetlejuice because he’s falling for us?”

Adam’s eyes widened. “Um. Okay.” He frowned slightly. “I thought we were on the same page about this.”

“I just want to explore our options. He’s already so much a part of our lives—not just in the bedroom, but outside of it. Would it completely ruin everything we have to say, ‘Okay, let’s try dating’?” Part of her expected to be struck by lightning.

Adam looked away, staring blankly at the TV. She rested her hand on his shoulder, letting him know she was here for him. After a few moments he turned back to her, still frowning. “You’re not asking because you’re bored of me, right?”

“Oh, Adam….” She kissed him again, longer and slower. It took him a few moments to kiss her back. “Of course not. And I’d say that even if we were alive and everyone could see us. I wanted to look at this situation a different way, that’s all. If dating Beetlejuice is something you’re truly not interested in, we don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

Adam opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. He closed his mouth, pursing his lips. “I can’t lose you, Barbara.”

“You won’t. Not ever.” Beetlejuice might think all relationships ended eventually once you were dead, but that was only his experience. Barbara and Adam’s bond was different. “It’s you and me together forever.”

“Good.” But Adam didn’t look happy. He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Dating him is going to go horribly wrong. I just know it.”

“Could you tell me why you think that?”

“Because it just is. Because everything’s against us. It doesn’t make sense.”

“You’re right, parts of it definitely don’t. We are very different people. But we’ve made so much space for him in our lives already. Would it be awful if we made a bit more? If he’s open to it, of course. I mean, I’m not saying we should get married to Beetlejuice tomorrow. I’m not even saying I’m in love with the guy. But we’ve made such a big connection with him, and I’m open to seeing where it leads.”

“I made us buy this house,” Adam blurted out. His gaze darted to the centre of the room, where their bodies had fallen when they died.

“Er, sorry, I’m not following.”

“I bought the house that killed us. Dating him will just be another thing I wanted—that I forced you into—that hurts us.”

Adam’s guilt over inadvertently ending their lives had come up a few times in their counselling sessions with Delia. He was trying to work on it, though it came out in unpredictable ways. “First of all, I also loved the house and wanted to buy it. Second of all, it sure seems like you developed the ghostly power to foretell the future,” she joked.

A small smile crossed his face. “Yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it. I’m future-casting.” That was what Delia called predicting the future in their sessions.

“You didn’t force me to buy this house. You didn’t force me into a sexual relationship with Beetlejuice. We made a decision together, as a couple. I want to make this one together, too.”

Adam rubbed at his face as he thought. “I just always assumed we’d go our separate ways if feelings started getting more intense. I never thought…. Or maybe I just didn’t want to think about it. I just wanted to bury my head in the sand.

“Polyamory is a relationship on hard mode. I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I feel so unprepared….”

“Well, why don’t we do some research?” When they’d researched opening up their marriage, they’d found lots of blogs and articles about opening up a relationship emotionally as well as sexually. They probably still had many of them bookmarked.

He chuckled. “Ah, a research project! You know what I like, sweetheart.” He took their phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, opening up a browser.

But he didn’t start typing. Instead, he glanced at her, his smile dropping. “We’ve been so lucky. We have each other, we have a family…. I’m so scared of messing that up. I know we said we’re Maitlands 3.0, but at times like this I wonder if that’s a lie. I’m still the same old Adam.”

“I know how you feel.” She kissed his temple. “Thinking about it makes me feel greedy. The good Christian girl inside me is freaking out.”

“Good, it’s not just me! Well, good Christian boy, but you know what I mean. And I also don’t want to be the greedy bisexual—”

“Adam, that’s not—”

“I know. But…what I know in my head and what I know in my gut are different. You’d think sleeping with a man would’ve shut that voice up.” He glanced at the ceiling. “One good thing about Beetlejuice is he’s never ashamed of anything he wants. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from him.” He typed ‘polyamorous relationships’ into the web browser and hit ‘enter.’ “Watch us put all this work in only to have him turn around and say ‘Woah, I was gonna dump you losers!’”

Barbara chuckled. “That’s possible.” Even if they started dating Beetlejuice, who knew how long they’d last? And what did a relationship look like to a demon who’d been alone for centuries?

They’d been reading for 15 minutes when Beetlejuice poked his head through the basement door.

“Guys, you gotta come see my dress for Maity’s fashion show! I’m hot as shit!”

“Language,” Barbara and Adam said automatically.

“Maity’s heard worse.”

“That doesn’t mean they need to hear it at home,” Barbara said.

“We can pick this up another time,” Adam said, shutting down the browser. “We’d love to see your—” But Beetlejuice had already phased back through the door.

Barbara held Adam’s hand. “Let’s go have some fun.” There was plenty of time for longer, harder conversations about their marriage and their lives.

Ghosts had nothing but time, after all.


	33. Say My Name (But Not That One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The undead trio learns that Beetlejuice does have some limits to his sexual interests after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: references to alcoholism and child abuse

Probably to avoid talking about anything he didn’t want to talk about, Beetlejuice wasn’t around for the next few days. Truthfully, Barbara and Adam didn’t try too hard to pin him down. They needed time to keep researching and discussing, after all.

But an article in the _Winter River Herald_ pushed them to track him down. They found him in the attic, examining Adam’s model of the town.

Seeing them, he waved. “Hey, Sexy, it’s looking awesome! I love a good callback.”

“Beetlejuice,” Adam said, “somehow a tarantula got loose from the insect house of the zoo. Do you know anything about that?”

“Nope!” He glared at them, bobbing in mid-air. “Wow, so anything that goes wrong anywhere is my fault now? Nice, guys.”

Adam read from the article. “When ‘witnesses claim the glass on the tarantula enclosure seemed to vanish,’ and ‘no glass was found on the scene,’ it seems supernatural to me. 'The tarantula leapt at onlookers but didn’t attack and was peacefully caught by zoo staff.'” He looked up at Beetlejuice. “It seems like someone wanted a cheap, non-violent scare. We appreciate the non-violence, of course—”

“Yeah, you’re welcome, dorks!” He paused. “If it was me.” He examined his nails, buffing them on his striped suit. “I have so many adventures. Hard to keep track.”

“—But,” Adam continued, “it’s still a dangerous prank. Did you think what would happen to the zoo staff? The zoo’s been shut down, and the staff is under investigation. They also might sue the enclosure’s manufacturer—a local zoo doesn’t have that kind of money.”

“And what if someone at the zoo that day had a heart condition?” Barbara said. “Or an anxiety disorder, and hearing that a spider escaped made it worse?”

Beetlejuice snorted. “What, like I’m supposed to care about every single NPC?”

“Huh?”

“It’s a gaming term,” Adam clarified. “And no one’s an NPC, buddy. We’re all just people who deserve to be treated with kindness and respect.” Beetlejuice rolled his eyes and made a jerking off motion, but it didn’t phase Adam. “And how you treat people you don’t know is just as important as how you treat your friends and family.”

Beetlejuice frowned. “Really?”

“Really. It’s actually even more important.”

“Ugh! You guys are gonna want me to atone, aren’t you?” he whined, squirming and kicking his legs like a toddler. “You’re the wooooorst!”

“We haven’t figured out how yet,” Barbara said. They were thinking of asking Charles to set up a GoFundMe for the zoo’s legal fees. “But if we come up with some way to help the zoo, we hope you’ll participate.” She glanced at Adam, who nodded at her. “And this prank wasn’t just potentially dangerous to people in the zoo. It was dangerous to you, too. Only houses are safe for you to haunt. What if a sandworm had attacked you?”

“Pssh.”

She reached up for his hand; when he glared at her, she dropped it. But he hadn’t become a swarm of bugs and thrown a snake at them and tried to escape the conversation, so that was something. Teaching their demon to be good was a series of small victories. 

“This is probably self-centred,” Barbara added, “but you didn’t pull this prank so we’d come talk to you and we can start working on things, did you?”

Beetlejuice stopped bobbing, recoiling in surprise. Then he chuckled, glancing up at the ceiling. “I’m a simple demon, baby. Mostly, I just do shit ‘cuz I’m bored. Besides.” He cleared his throat. “I, uh, wanna talk to Delia before we talk about whatever dumb shit you guys wanna talk about.”

“Oh,” Adam said, surprised.

He glared at Adam, one of his grumpy-but-not-actually-that-angry glares. “So fucking surprised! I can be emotionally mature. I could be the most mature person in this whole house if I wanted to! Watch me, bitches!”

“We’re very proud of you, Beetlejuice,” Barbara said.

His glare didn’t change, but his lips kept twitching up in a smile. “Obviously.” Suddenly, he poofed to her side and grabbed her hand. Adam held his free hand. Beetlejuice kissed his cheek and then hers.

“Hmm.” Beetlejuice glanced between her and Adam, his gaze starting to slip up and down their bodies. “So, are you guys saying I’ve been a bad boy? I need to be punished?”

Barbara had to admit she was intrigued. She liked exploring her dom side.

Adam shook his head, smiling fondly. “Buddy, we’re not going to sexualize being good. You should do good because you want to, not because you get rewarded for it.” Most of Beetlejuice’s stumbling steps toward being a good person had been motivated by rewards: getting Lydia to say his name three times or continued friendship with the people he cared about.

“Pfffbbt, that’s never gonna happen,” the demon said confidently.

Adam frowned. “And…you do know that’s a bad thing, right?”

“It is,” Barbara said before Beetlejuice could speak, “but we can also meet Beetlejuice where he is now, and acknowledge that learning to be good for a demon is a process. Heck, being good is hard for most living people.”

“You’re right.” Adam nodded then kissed Beetlejuice’s cheek. “Sorry.”

Beetlejuice pulled Adam closer, nipping at his neck. “Mm, you should be. My widdle feewings are vewwy hurt. I should punish _you_ , Sexy."

Adam chuckled awkwardly. “I’m not sure sadomasochism is my thing. And we should probably take sex off the table until we have our convers—”

Beetlejuice kissed him. Suddenly, a second head appeared between Beetlejuice’s shoulders and leaned in to kiss Barbara. The kiss was unusually sloppy. A consequence of having two heads, maybe?

She kissed his nose. “You’re so weird.”

The head facing her giggled, while the head facing Adam kept kissing her husband. _Having sex might help things—Beetlejuice is usually pretty happy after getting laid._ And who knew what the outcome of their talk with Beetlejuice would be? This might be their last time together.

“It’s only 10 AM,” she said. “That’s more than enough time to do some…exploring.”

She checked in with Adam, squeezing his hand. He squeezed back. He was interested, too.

If they’d learned anything from Beetlejuice, it was that she and Adam didn’t have to do things totally by the book. A little chaos could be good for them.

* * *

Beetlejuice teleported them to their bedroom then split himself in two, one pulling Adam down onto their bed and the other grinning in front of Barbara, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Is your safe word still _The Music Man_?” Barbara asked.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

“And are there any hard limits?”

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Still up for anything, baby. I’m a simple demon, like I said.” The other Beetlejuice was making out with Adam, who was splitting his attention between the eager demon on top of him and Barbara.

Barbara nodded. “Okay. Then get down on your fucking knees, bitch.”

Beetlejuice knelt, laughing more hoarsely than usual; Adam said “Barbara!” in surprise.

“Too much?” she asked her husband awkwardly.

Adam quickly shook his head. “Sorry. Don’t mind me! I’ll stop the commentary.” The Beetlejuice who’d been pawing Adam’s shirt off was eyeing her with interest. It took Adam clearing his throat for that Beetlejuice to turn his attention back to her husband.

The Beetlejuice in front of her tugged at her dress. She slapped his hand away so hard she felt guilty. He jerked his hand back, but from his grin, the pain didn’t matter to him.

“Stop it, Beetlejuice,” she commanded, shoulders back and voice strong. “You have to be good.”

“Mm. Don’t wanna.” His yellow teeth grew a bit pointier.

Clothes were falling to the ground behind her. “Missed you, Sexy,” the other Beetlejuice murmured.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “No topping from the bottom, demon.” Beetlejuice had taught her that term. He’d taught her and Adam a lot about their own sexual interests and limits. _I’ll miss him if he wants to leave us._

She tried to clear her head and focus on the present.

Beetlejuice snorted. “Stop me, then.”

It took her a moment to decide to slap him, and the blow was pretty weak. He rolled his eyes theatrically as she grabbed his hair and forced his head up. This didn’t impress him—he yawned loudly.

Something skittered along her fingers. Surprised, she jerked her hand away from his hair. A centipede peeked out and blew a raspberry at her before disappearing back into his thick green hair.

Beetlejuice eyed the bed behind her. “Ooo. I could just get rid of that clone and bone your husband. Might be more fun.”

Beetlejuice clearly wanted her to up her game. She’d already slapped him hard during their solo time together. She wracked her brains for something new.

When she came up with a good start—enough to buy her time until she thought of something more imaginative—she grabbed his hair again and twisted it hard. “Shut up, Lawrence!”

Beetlejuice’s eyes widened and his smile vanished, his face going slack. She’d never seen his expression so flat before.

She let go of his hair. Her usual icy ghostly temperature descended. She crouched down to meet his eyes. Her undead form couldn’t show the symptoms of panic—not without a heart to beat faster or a stomach to churn or lungs to make her breath come quicker—but she remembered them.

“Beetlejuice?” she whispered.

He vanished. There was no puff of smoke, no lingering smell, and worst of all, a terrible silence.

“Barbara?” Adam asked. The Beetlejuice clone had vanished as well. Adam sat up on the bed, shirtless.

Tears sprang to her eyes. “I…I don’t know what happened, but…I did something wrong.”

Adam hurried over to her, his shirt appearing on his body as he moved. He wrapped his arms around her.

She held her husband tight. “I—I called him Lawrence. His first name. I triggered something, I don’t know what. Oh, God, I feel so stupid—”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

She wiped her eyes. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking, _What did I think would happen? Having freaky sex with a man who’s not my husband isn’t what good girls do. Of course, it only brings pain._ “Adam, I’m okay. My reaction isn’t important right now. Please find Beetlejuice and check on him. The basement or the roof—oh, and stop by the kitchen first. I think we still have ice cream sandwiches left.”

“I don’t want to leave you like this….”

“Adam, go. Please. He needs you.”

Adam closed his eyes. A few moments later, another Adam appeared beside him.

“I’m here to help,” the clone said to Barbara.

The real Adam kissed her briefly, murmuring, “I’ll be back soon,” before he left.

The clone Adam held her and gave her a Kleenex as the tears kept flowing.

“I don’t think I’m helping,” the clone said sadly.

“No, this is fine.” She kissed the clone on the cheek. “Some things…they just take time.”

She wasn’t sure how long the clone held her while she cried. She hoped Adam had found Beetlejuice. She hoped Beetlejuice wasn’t dodging a hard conversation.

She got some of her answers when Beetlejuice floated into the bedroom from the floor below, scarfing down an ice cream sandwich. “Jesus, Barbara,” he said fondly. “Stop crying, you.” He appeared as animated as he usually did.

“I’m so sorry, Beetlejuice—” Barbara began.

Adam floated up a few moments later. “Thanks for helping,” he said to his clone, touching him on the arm before vanishing him.

“Wait!” Beetlejuice said. “Bring him back! Twice the Adam is twice the sexiness!” Beetlejuice snapped his fingers, and all three of them were suddenly naked. “Let’s get back on the train to Bone Town!”

“Beetlejuice, I don’t think either of us are in the mood,” Adam said gently. Barbara nodded, and dressed her and Adam with a wave of her hand and a small expenditure of power.

Beetlejuice glared between the two of them. Huffing, he snapped his fingers again and was wearing his usual suit. “Oh, come on. Look, it didn’t mean anything, okay? Babs called me Lawrence, and my evil bitch mom called me Lawrence, and she'd drag me around by my hair sometimes, but who gives a shit? I’m fine now.”

Barbara would have felt sick if she’d had a living body. Something she’d done had reminded Beetlejuice of his abusive mother. “Oh my God. Oh God. Beetlejuice, I’m so, _so_ sorry—”

He waved off her apology. “I just said I’m fine! It’s—it’s—” he frowned, finally coming up with “—it’s whatever. ‘Sides, she dead!” He did a victory dance in mid-air. “I killed her!” He chuckled darkly. “I _won_. I finally beat her.”

His words and expression were pretty evil, but Barbara reminded herself she shouldn’t police an abuse victim’s words or feelings about their abuser. He’d never expressed any regret about having to kill his mother to save Lydia and the Maitland-Deetzes—then again, he hadn’t brought her up much since he’d returned from the Netherworld.

 _And we never asked._ They’d wanted their fun, sexy, weird friend, and happily ignored such a significant event in his past. That made more tears start falling. She quickly wiped them away.

“I said stop it,” the demon snapped.

“I’m trying to. I just…I hate that I hurt you.”

“I’m the one that should be upset. Ma taught me how to play Dodge the Beer Bottle when I was six. She was the fucking worst. But I’m fine. Get it together, Babs!”

“Would you like a hug, Beetlejuice?” Adam asked, probably to stop an argument.

“Meh. I mean, if it’ll help you needy bastards calm down….”

He floated down to them, and Adam and Barbara held him, Barbara resting her head on his shoulder. Her hand naturally found Adam’s. Once all three of them were touching, warmth unfurled through her. It gave Barbara a few moments to collect herself and stop crying. 

“Finally,” Beetlejuice grumbled, making a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle.

Adam leaned over, gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head, then gave Beetlejuice a quick kiss on the cheek.

The demon rolled his eyes and tried to keep frowning as his lips twitched in a smile. “You two,” he grumbled without any heat.

As he looked at them, his entire body, suit and hair began shading into pink.

_Well. That’s new. Good thing Adam and I have been talking a lot about polyamory._

Beetlejuice cleared his throat then said, “Don’t get used to this hurt/comfort bullshit, dweebs.” He waved a hand dismissively—and then noticed that his hand and suit were pink.

He flinched, eyes widening as he stared at his hand in horror. “Oh,” he said quietly. “Fuck me.”

Suddenly, Barbara and Adam were leaning into a puff of pink smoke. She looked around, but he’d vanished again. She and Adam checked the house, but Beetlejuice had vanished completely. The house seemed so much quieter without him.

“I think now’s a good time to talk about Beetlejuice,” Barbara said.


	34. This Chapter is From Beetlejuice's POV, Which Makes it the Best Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just a normal chapter of a normal demon causing normal demonic havoc definitely not because he's in love with the Maitlands, okay???

Finally, a chapter from my point of view! What exactly has Babs been bringing to this fic, anyway? Oh, she’s sad about her sister or whatever, boohoo. You’re not here for her. You’re here for me.

Right?

I mean, pffbbt, obviously. Can you imagine this fic without me? Just Babs adjusting to death and learning how to be a parent? Barf. No one would click on that shit.

So, anyway, I just started glowing pink in front of the Maitlands. Um. Awkward. I GTFO’d.

I teleport to outside Delia’s office. I slap my outdoor coat on—what I’m wearing in “The Whole Being Dead Thing”—change my skin colour from undead grey to just unhealthy grey, and step inside. 

There’s a cute little receptionist in a wheelchair behind a desk. The waiting room’s peaceful, with lots of plants and a little waterfall trickling down one of the walls. When you ask your rich husband to help you make a new therapy centre, it looks pretty classy.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asks.

“DELIA!” Where the hell is she?

That cute receptionist is looking worried now. “She’s with a client now, but—”

There’s only one hallway in this therapy centre—there must be rooms in the back where the actual therapy takes place. I step toward the hallway. (Actual steps on the floor, not floating, not teleporting. I hope everyone appreciates how I’m not trying to freak the receptionist out.) “DELIA!”

Of fucking course. The second I need someone, they’re not there. Who’s that client she’s with, anyway? Does she like them better than me?

**_DESTROY THEM_ **

The receptionist moves in front of me arms out to block me. Her eyes are wide. She’s scared, which is fun. I should grow fangs. I should have a snake face. I could

**_SCARE HER SO MUCH MORE_ **

_but that’d make ADAM and BARBARA sad_

“Please, sir,” the receptionist says, her voice a little shaky, “take a seat and I can get her for you.” She probably means ‘take a seat while I call a mental health distress line for you.’

A door along the hallway opens, and there’s Delia, finally. “DELIA! I need to talk to you!”

Delia smiles at the receptionist and gently puts her hand on her shoulder.

they should make out 

_would BARBARA and ADAM like you thinking that, beetlejuice?_

“Thank you so much, Amy,” Delia says. “I’ll just speak to BJ outside for a moment.”

“A moment?!” But I let her steer me outside. The floor-to-ceiling windows show the receptionist moving behind the desk, watching me and Delia, her cellphone in hand. Smart kid, knowing I could be dangerous.

Delia turns to me. “Beetlejuice, are you going to hurt yourself or someone else?” she says calmly.

“Well…no, but—”

“I’m with a client right now, darling.” She pulls her phone out of he purse and looks at it. “But I can take an early lunch and see you at 11:30 at the house, all right?”

“But I need to talk to you now!”

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait. I’ll be with you as quickly as I can.” She reaches into her purse again. “Would you like a crystal, my dear?”

“No!” And then she pulls out a large crystal that’s purple pointy bits at the top and greyish at the bottom. I grab it from her. It’s pretty and smooth and cool and I like the pointy parts against my fingers. “Ooo.”

“If you’d like, you can focus on the amethyst and attune yourself to its calming energy. Well, after you go home. I don’t think even crystals help against sandworms.” She squeezes my arm. “I’ll see you at home, my dear.”

I glance at the clock on her phone. It’s not even 10:30 right now. This is going to take so long! “Home by 11:30. Okay. Bye!”

I vanish my outdoor coat, letting my black-and-white stripes show. My suit isn’t just snazzy as hell, it also confuses sandworms. Maity has theories about why—they call the stripes distractive markings. Sandworms see something that’s black-and-white striped, like them, so it makes them go ‘WTF??’ instead of ‘NOM!’ Or they could be motion dazzle markings, like zebras; the black-and-white stripes distract the sandworms’ eyes. When they were in the fourth grade, Maity really wanted to do a report on sandworms for their science fair project. Their parents talked them out of it.

I teleport away. There’s only one other person I can think of talking to.

* * *

Corner & James Funeral Home in Albany is a historical building. Adam

_who’s the cutest, most adorable architecture nerd ever_

could probably yap on and on about the foundation and buttresses or whatever. All I care is that Lydia might be there.

She’s in the back, earbuds in, putting makeup on a kid’s corpse. This kid’s real small—a toddler or a bit older. They’re wearing a bright red dress with white buttons and a bow in their long black hair. The air smells like embalming fluid. People tend to go for cremations or green burials these days; embalmings, at least at Lydia’s funeral home, are pretty rare. Which sucks, because embalmings are amazing—fluids! Guts! Stitches! What’s not to love?

I wish Lydia asked me to watch this one. I could’ve spent the last few hours watching blood get drained instead of fucking everything up with Adam and Barbara.

Twenty-nine-year-old Lydia is still goth, but now she’s goth and punk together. She’s wearing a plaid flannel shirt with ripped jeans and stockings underneath them and thick boots. All black, obviously. She’s wearing leather cuff bracelets with bird skulls on them and a mouse-skull choker she made herself out of a real mouse’s skull.

shes hot

_she’s not ADAM or BARBARA, though…._

In the past, Lydia’s cussed me out for startling her when she’s on the job, so I float closer and wait for her to notice me. For some reason, she actually cares about corpses.

I mean, try to imagine this. God/Satan knows, I have. You know for a fact that when you die, you’re gonna be thrown into an empty void. Sometimes, there’s bits and pieces of the world you know—a whorehouse lit up like the Vegas strip, a row of fishing shacks near a silent sea, a cabin with one candle always flickering in the window. But they’re just scenes from some poor shithead’s memory, or the collective unconscious, or whatever. (Hey, I called myself a guide to the other side. Never said I was a good one, as Mom made sure to point out every chance she got.)

The best you can hope for is you stumble on a group of people as you wander through terrifying darkness. Maybe you spend a few centuries with them swapping life stories, having orgies and doing drugs. But how long can anyone stand one bunch of numbnuts? You move on. Everyone moves on in the Netherworld. You’d get bored of anyone, there. (Even Mommy dearest, which your BFFF forever Beetlejuice has told you over and over again, but you don’t hear him.) 

So, you know all that about the afterlife and in this life, you choose to willingly spend time with corpses. Chuck and I don’t agree on a lot, but we both agree that Lyds could be the world’s greatest artist. She was always winning photo competitions in high school and arsty fartsy scholarships in college. She could’ve done anything, but she chose this.

And, even weirder, she’s happy. Oh, she doesn’t love the funeral industry, and keeps yapping about how awful it is that her coworkers upsell families on the most expensive coffins, and how Albany doesn’t have a water cremation machine yet because water cremation is better for the environment. But she loves her job.

She’s never come out and said it, but I think it’s yet another of Lydia’s mommy issues. Doesn’t seem healthy to me.

Lydia steps back, comparing the kid to a photo on her phone. She’s done a good job. The kid looks like they’re sleeping. She sets the phone down and tears well up in her eyes.

Well, shit. I came here because I didn’t want to deal with crying.

Before I can teleport away, she sees me. She takes out an earbud. I can hear some Harry Belafonte before she turns the music off. She always listens to his songs when she’s in a shit mood. Her mom loved music like that.

“Hey, psycho,” she says, sniffling, grabbing a Kleenex from a stainless steel counter and wiping her eyes. “Ugh. Sometimes, I hate working on kids. I keep thinking about Maity when they were that young.”

“I’m sure Claire’s mom would love to hear about these maternal instincts....”

“Wendy’s a great woman—she just has a hard time accepting a child-free lifestyle. She’ll get over it. Hopefully.”

She blows into the Kleenex, throws it out, then washes her hands. “What’s up?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had an embalming?!”

Lyds shrugs. “I thought mornings and afternoons were your bonding time with Barbara and Adam.”

heh more like boning time

_are BARBARA and ADAM okay? should i go back to check on them?_

“Um, right.”

Lydia nods at the corpse. “Young Alex Li here died of childhood leukemia, by the way. Her moms are a wreck.”

Why is this chapter so full of randos who are never going to appear again? That receptionist, some dead kid.... That’s a pretty shit writing choice.

Lyds doesn’t expect me to say anything comforting. She knows me too well. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked: How do toddlers get to the Netherworld?”

“There’s a picture-book version of the _Handbook_.”

“Really?”

“Scout’s honour.”

“And what about babies? They can’t read or hold chalk.”

“We do sweeps topside to pick ‘em up.” Fun fact: you can draw the door with ink, markers or crayons in a pinch. Not traditional, but it’ll work.

“’We’? Was that your job when you were in the Netherworld?”

“I might’ve done it once or twice.” I frown. “Not that Mom ever thought I did a good job.” Stupid Babs, making me think of my mom.

**_EXORCISE BARBARA_ **

_it’s not BARBARA’S fault. she didn’t know it’d hurt. i didn’t_

Lydia’s still on this Netherworld kick. “Where would a toddler stay in the Netherworld while they wait for their family?”

“In processing, probably? I dunno. You wanna go to the Netherworld so much when you die, you work your way up the bureaucracy and find out.” Climbing the undead corporate ladder was never my thing, and didn’t that piss Mom off.

We’ve gone over Lydia’s afterlife plans a few times. I keep telling her finding her mom won’t be that great. Nothing changes in the Netherworld. It’s a whole world full of meh. She’ll find Emily Deetz, then they’ll be just as bored and lonely as everyone else. Even Mommy’s love won’t change the way the Netherworld is. I’ve seen it a billion times.

But I don’t want to argue right now.

Lydia wheels a coffin over on a gurney and puts Alex Li in it. The kid looks so peaceful. She’s probably crying and scared in the Netherworld.

“See you on the other side,” Lyds tells the kid before she shuts the coffin. She always says that.

I scoff. “C’mon, kid! You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“I know sincerity is hard for you to understand, but I do, actually.”

“You don’t have a photographic memory. You’re not gonna remember some dead kid you saw for a few hours.”

“You never know. I might die tomorrow. I’ll have all eternity to find my mother—I could stop into processing and see Alex. And, yes, our deal still stands: you get to do one half-hour comedy routine with my corpse before a green burial. Keep it G-rated if Maitland is still young.”

“’Green burial.’ Jesus. Such a fancy phrase for rotting in some hole in the woods. ~~Huh. Kinda like how I died the first time.~~ ”

Wait, ignore that part, I died partying at Studio 54, doing blow with the Beatles with the Stones. The timeline totally works. Don’t look it up. My death was as epic as I am, readers!

 ~~“We’ll have something else in common, then,” Lyds replies.~~ “Other than our love of anarchy. Not that I’ve been indulging in that much recently, with publishing _Home_ and all.”

Right, her and Claire’s book. You know what’d be fun? Seeing Claire! “Hey, got anything for your girl? I could stop by and say hi!”

Lydia pauses. “Well...I was working on something for Art Walk that I’d like her opinion on....” I forgot Lyds and Claire were going to sell their ‘zine at a local art fair. “No pranks.”

“Oh, c’mon, when have I ever pranked Claire?”

“When you possessed her boss and made her tell Claire that the annual report was due by end of day instead of in two weeks.”

“I made her boss change it back five minutes later!”

“It was five hours.”

“Was it? Y’know, time’s just such a funny thing for the dead....” Lydia’s frustrated groan makes me shut up. She’s so touchy about her girlfriend, jeez! “Okay, okay!” I hold my hands up. “No pranks!”

“Good.” She goes into her purse, pulls out a baggie of weed and tosses it to me.

I catch it. “Woah. Is that legal?”

“It’s tea, so I hope so? I want to get Claire’s opinion on the new blend. We’re going to sell some tea with _Home_.”

“Oh. Tea. I thought you were cool, Lyds.” Claire loves tea, so now Lydia loves tea. That’s what things are like in a relationship, I guess. If I were dating Adam, I’d get him one of those nerdy puzzles he likes. Or maybe I’d show him what Winter River looked like when I was alive the first time! He’d love that. If I were dating Barb, I’d get her...huh. Babs doesn’t have a ‘thing’ like Adam. She likes tons of different stuff. She’s...what’s the word? She’s eclectic. She’s been working on gardening lately, though. Some seeds?

Not that I’m dating either of them. Not that I ever will

I gotta stop thinking about this.

Something Lyds said catches my attention. “Hey, if you need more time to get back to your punk roots, we can start up the evil plan again! There’s gotta be some jobs you need me to do! Let’s get back to saving the world!”

Lydia looks interested. That’s my girl! “Isn’t your deal with the Maitlands based on a lack of my evil plan?”

“Well, we don’t have to tell those dorks, do we? It’ll be our little secret, kid!”

“Mm, I don’t think I could keep that a secret from them.”

“Seriously?! For someone who was totally fine with me psychologically torturing people, you’re weirdly moral.”

“I’m strange and unusual like that.”

“Did you hear the latest about the fashion show?” I ask because she’s looking at me all thoughtful and shit.

The fashion show on Maitland’s birthday has become a Gender Doesn’t Matter Fashion Show. Everyone’s trying to be super woke—Delia had this big speech about how no one wants to trivialize Maitland’s non-binary identity or trigger any dysphoria—but Maity’s excited about the whole thing.

“Maity’s so crazy about planning!” I say. “I got a list of lighting cues yesterday! Lighting cues! Jesus, it’s a party.” I lean in close, whispering, “I’m gonna throw ‘em a curve ball. A little spider confetti.”

“Or you could not ruin something my little sib obviously cares a lot about?”

“Ruin?! The confetti’ll stop being spiders before it reaches the audience. Adam’s building a goddamn stage. We’ve got a sound board. The audience will probably think it’s a hologram or something. And a little of the unexpected will teach the kid to be more chill.” 

Did you get my reference? It’s a musical theatre reference. You laughed, right? You better have laughed. ~~Please laugh.~~

Lyds is all concerned now. “Or you could have an actual conversation with them. Like the conversation you’re clearly avoiding right now with...I’m going to guess Adam and Barbara?”

“Who dat?”

She raises her eyebrows. “Okay, let’s play a game—did they offend you?”

“Pffbbt. They don’t even say the word ‘stupid.’ Which is a slur now. Is there any word that’s not a slur? Should we just never say anything?”

“Did they refuse to get physical with you?”

Remembering Adam kissing me and Barbara slapping me, I chortle.

Lydia keeps going. “Did you ‘catch the feels,’ as the kids say?”

I try very, very hard not to flinch.

 _BARBARA and ADAM are the most adorable people ever._ _i should_

bone them

_tell them i love them_

**_HURT THEM BEFORE THEY HURT ME_ **

I realize I’ve been floating there for a few moments trying to think of what to say. “’As the kids say’?” I manage. “As the kids _said_ in 2015, maybe. You gotta keep up with the times, Lyds.”

“Fair enough. And you’re evading the question.”

“What question?”

We’re interrupted by footsteps coming down the hallway. It’s Fred, Lydia’s supervisor, in a casual T-shirt and jeans, here to wheel the coffin into the viewing room for the funeral.

“What’s the podcast this time?” he asks. That’s how Lyds disguises my visits—by pretending she loves talking back to her podcasts.

Lydia pulls the earbud out of her ear. “One about moving on after a dead child,” Lyds says quietly. “I can send you the link, if you want.” She’s always got a cover story. That’s my girl.

“No thanks.” They both take a moment to look at the dead kid, Alex Li, in their coffin. Fred sighs. “I’m hugging my babies extra tight tonight.” Then he wheels the coffin out. He’ll be dressed up in his fancy suit for the actual funeral, probably. Lyds is still pretty junior at the funeral home, so she doesn’t need to dress all professional yet.

Shit, all this dead kid stuff isn’t foreshadowing that something’s going to happen to Maity, is it? No. No way. Of course not. C’mon, we’ve all been reading the same fic. The author’s not that good.

I start to float away. “Well, kid, it’s been fun—”

“It doesn’t make you weak,” Lydia says. “Being in love, I mean. It doesn’t make you weak, or boring, or predictable, or any less of a badass demon.”

How the fuck does she know exactly what’s going on in my head? Good thing she didn’t know me this well when I was trying to con her into a green card marriage, or the musical’s whole plot never would’ve happened. “Psshh. What? Shut up.”

“I think it makes you brave,” Lyds continues. “Take it from a demiromantic: it’s scary, putting yourself out there.”

I start fiddling with the frayed cuffs of my suit. “And useless.”

“How so?”

I find a thread on my left cuff and start tugging at it. “Uh, even if I were in love—and I’m not admitting shit—the Maitlands are married. To each other.” A bit of suit lining pulls away from my suit. “Pretty clear where the smelly goblin they’ve been boning stands compared to—”

That stupid way Adam always looks at Barbara when she comes in the room. They dumbass way Barbara always gives Adam space when he’s really wrapped up in a book so she doesn’t “break the spell.” The completely, totally moronic way they leave cutesy notes and smiley faces for each other on that huge schedule on their bedroom wall.

I yank at the thread, which pulls off more suit lining with a satisfying tearing sound. “Compared to what they have.”

“So they’ve said they’re putting an end to your relationship?”

Riiiiiiip. “Not yet.”

**_DESTROY_ **

Lydia snaps her fingers in front of my face. I recoil then glare at her.

“Stop wrecking your suit, psycho. I’m not patching it up for you.”

“Go die, kid.” I stop wrecking my suit, but I need to do something with my hands.... I unscrew my hands from my arms and let them run around like the Thing in _The Addams Family_. “There. They’re running free.”

Lyds uses her own hands to pat my arm. “From what you’ve described, it does sound like it’s going to be rough. I’m here for you, Beej.” She’s trying to keep an eye on my hands. One of them is running along the floor while the other is skittering up the wall. “Whenever you need to get out of the house, just pop on by.

“And, not to get all Delia on you, but this could be the start of a new chapter. I’ve been keeping an eye on some people in my death positivity meetup group. Some of them believe in ghosts and, if we spin it right, I’m pretty sure they’d love to date one.” She clears her throat. “Or, if you’re just interested in a rebound fling, I’m sure at least one or two would be up for something physical.”

“Ooo, this could become a Beetlejuice/OC fic?” One of my hands starts leaping and pirouetting at the thought. “Yeah, sounds fun! Thanks, Lyds!”

As long as I forget about the way Barbara baby-talks to plants when she waters them, and that Adam’s favourite flavour of ice cream is vanilla and he hates sprinkles, and all those dumbass details that I’ve picked up. Should be easy. I’ve forgotten when my own birthday was. I can forget them.

_i could NEVER forget them!_

Growling, I grow a new pair of hands, reach into my chest and pull out my blackened husk of a heart. “This fucker is ruining everything!” I shake it. Black ichor splats on the ground. “What the hell is your problem?! We had a good thing going!”

“Hey.” Lydia takes my heart with the confidence of someone who sticks her hands into dead bodies all the time. “Be gentle with your heart. If you don’t, who will?” She pats it before handing it back.

I put it in my chest. It’s a little warmer than it was before. Thanks, living body temperature.

Lyds gives me a side-hug and ruffles my hair. After a moment, she comments, “This is just a friendship hug, by the way.”

“Fall in love with you one goddamn time and no one ever lets me forget it! Not that I was really in love with you. Delia helped me see that. I loved...um, how did she say it? The idealized version of you. Not the dumb real you that cries over dead kids, for example.” I vanish the two extra hands running around the room.

Lydia chuckles and breaks the hug. “Let me guess—that idealized me was just waiting for your cold, undead touch to cure my asexuality?”

“I feel like you already know the answer to that.” I stare at my shoes. “Um, sorry.”

She bops me under my chin, making me look up at her. “You’ve become a great guy, Beej. From an invisible spirit of rage and misery to a master of chaos in a far-too-orderly world. You’ve cobbled together a conscience with the help of a plucky goth girl, a hippie, a solemn preteen and the whitest of white bread couples. You’re a bright green light in a world of grey. You’ll find someone.

“It’s definitely not the person you met and manipulated when she was 15, and it’s probably not the married couple that’s the complete opposite of you in every way. But even when you feel overwhelmed and alone, I want you to remember that there’s someone out there for you. You can find that person. And until you do, you'll have your friends and family beside you.”

“What was that, a fucking monologue?” I snap. “Let’s just stick with naturalistic dialogue, okay? And workshop that part about me being a bright light. It kinda came out of nowhere and didn't lead to much.”

This would be a lot more effective if I wasn’t crying. Lydia hands me a Kleenex. I blow into it, wipe my face, then eat it. What? I need to eat something.

Lydia shudders. “You know what? Nevermind. I take back everything I just said.” But she gives me another Kleenex while I pull myself together.

“And by the way, the Maitlands aren’t exactly the complete opposite of me." I sniffle, wiping away the last of my tears. "At least,” I leer, “not in the bedroom. Where I _fuck_ your adopted ghost mom and your second dad. A _lot_. In so many different positions.”

adam sucks me off so good and babs is so hot

Lyds gives me a gratifying shudder and grimace. “Friendship off.”

I cackle.

She shoves me away, definitely not as hard as she could. “Go on. Get. And don’t forget to stop by Claire’s office.”

“Right. With the tea for your show.” I pause. “Hey, kid…I’d kill my mom for you a hundred times.”

I have. I used to play that moment Mom died in my head all the time before my head got filled up with Lyds and the Maitlands and Maity. Part of me loves watching that bitch suffer.

Lydia looks surprised, then she smiles. “Thanks, I think. I’m not sure if this is supposed to be a tender moment or a terrifying one, but then, we’re probably the last two beings who could make that kind of call.”

I shrug. “It’s a mystery. See you at the party!”

I teleport to Claire’s office.

* * *

Claire is painfully indie. No Funko Pops or official show posters for her. They’re made in Chinese sweatshops or something. But fandom pins from a local artist or a Black Widow made out of pipecleaners? She’s all over that shit. Even her desk at work looks like Etsy vomited all over it. ~~I cannot stand~~

Isn’t Claire great? I love Claire, really, great kid.

The geek lesbian girl and the asexual goth girl found each other after the goth girl had to friend-dump her demon bestie when he fell in love with her and she didn’t feel the same way. A classic tale.

Not that Claire has ever thanked me for basically pushing her and Lydia together, but whatever. It’s fine.

Claire writes ad copy in some dingy little cubical farm in Albany. I don’t visit Claire lots, so there’s no sandworms waiting for me when I arrive.

She’s scribbling into her notebook. (Handcrafted by a local bookbinder, I bet.) I can’t help but peek over her shoulder. ‘Netherworld Game’ is at the top, followed by ‘skeleton key puzzle,’ ‘Ginger – tap-dancing spider,’ and ‘narrator – French skeleton – Jacques??’ 

“Oh, hey, the cartoon!” I blurt out.

She gasps and spins around in her chair. “Don’t sneak up on people like that,” she hisses.

“Sorry, sorry. It just makes sense that you’d be writing about the cartoon. You’re from there—well, the original you, I guess.”

“Huh?”

“Nevermind. Claire, old buddy, old pal! Lyds wanted me to tell you she’s working on some teas for the booth.” I drop off the blend Lydia was working on.

She’s still a little suspicious when she says “Thanks.” In fact, she’s covering up the paper she was scribbling on.

“Working on another game?”

Claire sighs, gets up, then motions for me to follow. I float past a bunch of cubicles, suppressing my urge to scare anyone. This is exactly the kind of place that needs a few shakeups. It’s why I like visiting Chuck’s office so much.

She goes into the women’s washroom.

are we gonna to bone

Jesus, Horny Brain. She’s a lesbian.

i could be a girl for her though

Ooo, hey, I _could_....

Wait, no, she’s dating Lydia. Your best friend, remember that? We’re probably not boning. And Claire kinda doesn’t like me for some reason.

_BARBARA and ADAM got mad at you for bullying her when she was 17_

That was Chapter 8! Some people should learn to let things go.

Anyway, I phase through the wall to see Claire checking the gaps at the bottom of the stalls for feet. Then she straightens up and says, “Yeah, I am working on another game. Most of my games are so autobiographical. I think I’ve said as much as I can say about growing up as a fat, Black lesbian in a majority-white town. I decided to go in a less personal direction this time. Just a fun little game in the land of the dead.”

“As long as you just borrow the names and nothing about the real Netherworld. That’d be the world’s worst walking simulator!”

“Except for the part where the workers live, right?”

“Eh?” I wave that away. “Even that part’s just kind of meh. It’s always raining, it’s—” She looks interested. I pause. “Hey, if I’m gonna provided you with exclusive Netherworld knowledge, am I gonna get compensated?”

Her pierced eyebrows rise. “What does a demon take in compensation?”

“There’s gotta be someone you hate at the office, right? There _always_ is. Lemme prank them for you!” I learned to say 'prank' instead of 'haunt.' 

“No thanks. I can handle petty office politics.” She looks thoughtful. “But we might need you at another protest if you want to scare some police away again.”

What the hell had that last protest been about? Climate change? Police brutality? I can’t remember. I never get to stay long at these things.

“Maybe I could hang out long enough that sandworms stop by. Sometimes they get confused and eat a human or two.” At Claire’s unimpressed stare, I go over the house rules in my head. “Okay, no eating. But what if I just let a ‘worm rough a pig up a little?”

**_KILL THE PIG CUT ITS THROAT SPILL ITS BLOOD_ **

“The entire point of a nonviolent protest is that no one gets hurt. Maybe you should sit the next one out.”

I sigh. “So you’re not compensating me at all, even though you want to use my people’s stories to financially benefit yourself?”

I’m just yanking her chain, but Claire takes me seriously. “Well, maybe I could immortalize you in code? I could tell your story. The famous bioexorcist who haunts the world of the living, who bucked the system and boldly left the world of the dead.”

Right. That’s what I told Claire. ~~Only Lyds gets to know about Mom kicking me out.~~ Because that’s the truth, obviously! “Yeah! You should totally tell my story in a game!”

A middle-aged woman in a pantsuit comes into the washroom. She uses the nearest stall and Claire pretends to use the farthest. When they both come out, Claire smiles at her as they wash their hands.

“How’s your second day going, Gretchen?” Claire asks.

“Oh, there’s lots to learn," Gretchen says. "Janelle, is it?”

“Oh, it’s Claire.”

The woman winces. “Oh, sorry!”

Claire smiles and waves it off. “No problem. When I first started, it took me weeks to work out who everyone was!” When the woman leaves the washroom, Claire’s smile drops instantly.

“Who’s Janelle?”

Claire rolls her eyes, scowling.

“Wait, is she—”

“The only other Black person in the office? Yeah.” She shakes her head. “How hard was it not to guess? She could’ve just asked my name. She’s new. It’s kind of expected.”

Took me a while to get it, but now I know what a microaggression is. “I can **_destroy her_** for you! Please, kid—”

“No! I don’t need anyone destroyed. I have to see these people every day. I don’t get to just poof away when things get messy.”

That one fucking stings. Did Lydia tell her about my feelings for Babs and Sexy? Are she and Lyds laughing at me? “Shut the fuck up, Claire!”

Claire recoils. “Excuse me?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “What the hell was that about?”

Maybe I should’ve used that calming amethyst energy like Delia said. “Um, sorry. I’m just— I’m going through some shit.”

She swallows. “With Lydia?”

“No. Not Lydia.”

That makes her sigh in relief, but she’s still watching me intently, trying to read things there I don’t want her to see. I can’t stop tugging at my sleeves and fidgeting. After a few moments, she says, “Okay. If you’re not pissed at Lydia, then I don’t really need to get involved.”

“Soooo, mind not telling Lyds I snapped at you?”

“Oh, I’m telling Lydia—and the Maitlands—but I’ll also tell them you apologized. That’s progress, I guess. My break’s almost up, so I’m going back to my desk. Thanks for the tea. And you know what? Keep your stories about the Netherworld. I’ll make it up. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of logic and consistency in the real Netherworld, anyway.”

“You’re not wrong,” I admit. “Um. See you at Maity’s fashion show.”

Claire nods stiffly and leaves the washroom without looking back.

* * *

Now that Claire’s got me thinking all political, I teleport in front of the Winter River police station and throw a rock through its nearest window.

Is this act dismantling the corrupt police state? Probably not.

Does it make me feel better? Yep!

* * *

Next stop, Tyler O’Connell in Muldare, where he works at his parents’ café.

His coworker and affair partner, Sarah, is long gone. I am neither confirming nor denying that it was because I kept eating the café’s brownies and Tyler’s parents assumed she was doing it and fired her. (Shit, I’ll make it up to Sarah, okay? Sometime. When I have a sec. Look, she’s barely even a character, don’t get too invested in her side-plot.

Actually, you know what? Sarah kills puppies. There. No reason to help her at all, that sick serial puppy murderer.)

It’s just Tyler behind the counter, and he’s just finishing up a latte to-go for someone. When the café’s empty, he checks his phone.

He’s on the apps again. Looking for another girl he can cheat on.

“Asshole,” I grumble. I’m in stealth, so he can’t hear me. “You’d think you woulda learned from the last 50 times I’ve caught you this past year.”

I possess him and make him go through his photos on his latest dating app. Tyler is so basic. Of course, he has a shirtless pic in front of the mirror, and one hanging with the guys, and one in his local community theatre production of _Parade_.

“Ugh, gross. It’s 2035, kid. The world doesn’t need another white guy with a guitar!” I keep making him flip through his photos. “Wait, holy shit, is that you with a corgi?! Oh my God, so cute!” The next one has him grinning at the camera all mischievous. “Ooo, those eyes....”

i should bone him

“Gah!” I shake my head, glaring at stupid Tyler’s stupid head. “Okay, I get the appeal. But you don’t get to date, not after what you did to Chrissy!”

I make him message all those girls he’s been messaging stuff like ‘Im a cheating dog’ and “I was seeing this girl and my coworker at the same time’. Or sometimes just stuff like ‘*fart*’ or “I SMELL LIKE POO”. Gotta keep it interesting. And, yeah, sometimes I go full racist or misogynistic, but I’ll let you imagine what I write. Why trigger anyone if I don’t have to?

Sorry for calling Mom a bitch, by the way. That wasn’t cool, I know.

I make Tyler delete his profile, then stop possessing him.

Tyler’s the only one behind the counter right now, so he can’t freak out properly. But he puts up the ‘Ring Bell for Assistance’ sign and slips off to the bathroom.

He splashes water on his face, muttering, “What is wrong with me?”

And then—goddamnit—he starts to email Chrissy again.

Um, turns out that Tyler thinks every time I possess him to fuck up his dating life, that’s his guilty conscience. Which means if he can just get Chrissy back, everything will be fine.

Oops.

How was I supposed to know my actions would have consequences?

I make him stop emailing Chrissy.

“Don’t make me throw your phone in the toilet,” I hiss in his ear.

Maybe he hears me, because when I drop the possession, he doesn’t try again. He runs his hand through his hair, sighing heavily, then returns to behind the counter.

Job done!

I snag another brownie on the way out. And, yes, I remember all those lectures from Babs and Adam about theft. I’ll put in a huge order at the café for Charles’s work Christmas party, okay? That’ll make up for all the free brownies. Get off my ass.

Heh. Or get on it.

You’re cute.

fuck me

_ADAM and BARBARA wouldn’t like this_

**_I WOULD KILL YOU QUICKLY TO SPARE YOU PAIN_ **

I mean not as cute as Adam and Babs, but

Hey, why don’t we check in on Chrissy, see how that old plot cul-de-sac is doing?

* * *

She’s not in her apartment, but that’s okay. You see, she’s got a new cat, Fritter. He’s really young, and he gets everywhere.

It’s easy enough for a cat to knock a photo album off the shelf, right? It’s completely believable! And if that photo album just happens to open up to a page of Babs and Chrissy, well, these things happen. 

I want to make it clear that I am not, IN ANY WAY, haunting Chrissy. I’m _helping_ Chrissy.

One day, Babs will go to stalk her sister and Chrissy will see her, and they’ll cry and Babs will tell me I’m the best boyfriend ever, and then she and Adam will hug me and—

**_THEN I KILL ADAM AND TAKE HIS PLACE_ **

A clock on Chrissy’s living room wall tells me it’s 11:45 am.

Was there something I was

OH SHIT! Delia!

I teleport back home.

It’s time to get fucking therapized.


	35. You Have Been Blessed Because this Chapter is Also from Beetlejuice's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do some self-reflection, which I'm amazing at, and Maity helps me see a sneaky little loophole out of my current situation....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by numbnutspo. Please check out more of her work at www.tumblr.com/blog/view/numbnutspo.

“…and then I visited you at work,” I finish. We’re in Delia's office. I’m lying prone on a floating couch and she’s sitting, looking up at me.

Delia blinks a few times—I get it, the whole story is a lot—then reads over her notes. “I can certainly see how being triggered by traumatic memories brought you to my office.” She glances at her phone, frowning. “Unfortunately, we’re running short on time. What would you like to focus on, darling?”

“The Maitlands. What else? My mom? Why would I want to talk about my mom? That’s such a cliché therapist thing to say. Not that great at your job, are you?”

Delia ignores my dig. “So, what are you planning to do next?”

I squirm. “The Maitlands probably want to talk about stuff.” A memory pops into my brain. “I ever tell you how one time, Sexy hugged me from behind? It freaked me out for a sec. It wasn’t expecting it, y’know? He noticed, and then he said sorry. And ever since then, he and Babs always ask when they hug me from behind.”

_ADAM and BARBARA are so kind_

“How does that make you feel?”

_amazing_

“Safe—which sucks.”

“Oh?”

“First, you lure someone into a false sense of security. Then you spring the trap! That’s, like, rule number one of conning! Those bastards tricked me. Now when we break up, it’s gonna be a hundred times worse! Like I said in the show, they’re the real villains here.”

“And you’re sure they’re going to break up with you?”

“I would!”

Delia pulls out the good ol’ _Cluster B Personality Types Workbook_. If I was alive and living in today’s world (and if I was rich), she’d be working with my "care team" to put me on some mood stabilizers while she worked the head shrinker angle. I’m a real fun case. Do I have narcissistic personality disorder? Histrionic personality disorder? Borderline personality disorder? All three? Who knows!

Anyway, pills won’t work because I don’t have brain chemistry. Y’know, the whole being dead thing. So all she’s got is her.

She starts flipping through the book. There’s a worm wriggling out of a mossy patch on my wrist. I slurp the worm up like it’s spaghetti then eat it. I play with the chunk of amethyst Delia gave me, running my fingers over it and pressing it against my skin. I like it. It’s nice and cool against my fingers.

Eventually, Delia looks up at me again. “Beetlejuice, I have some homework for you.”

“Homework?! Aren’t I being tortured enough?”

“I want you to write down your goals in preparation for this conversation with the Maitlands. Write down your needs, then write down concrete actions you could take to meet each need.”

She opens her laptop and types for a few moments. Her printer whirrs to life, spitting out a worksheet.

I hate worksheets.

“Mom, I don’t—” Oh, shit, I called Delia Mom again. I scowl at her. She’s probably going to make a big deal out of it. “Me calling you ‘Mom’ is in no way related to anything that happened today! I’ve called you Mom tons of times before.”

“You have,” she agrees. “And I’m flattered you think of me as a parental figure.”

a hot parental figure

Not that I’m going to say that. One of the conditions Delia gave me for therapy was that I can’t hit on her. She’s happily married to Chuck, blah blah blah. It’s a struggle, sometimes, but I’ve tried real hard to keep that promise.

“Now,” Delia continues, “what were you saying?”

“The worksheet is stupid. Can’t you just tell me what to say to make everything go back to the way it was? That’s all I want. I don’t even have to do a list.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t turn back time, darling,” she says gently, holding out the sheet.

Does she know how to turn back time and she’s just not telling me?

**_KILL HER_ **

I shake my head. No, of course she doesn’t know how to turn back time, Jesus. Even the _Handbook for the Recently Deceased_ doesn’t say anything about that.

I take the worksheet with a loud sigh, my hair deflating, my suit blue, looking so miserable that she’ll have to snatch it away from me.

She doesn’t. The sheet’s in my hand. I make into an origami bat. It flies into my suit pocket.

“I’ll be back at 5,” Delia says. “I could mediate your discussion with the Maitlands, assuming you all agree.”

I don’t want an audience to having the shit kicked out of my heart. “Nah.” The blue from my suit creeps into my skin and hair.

“Beetlejuice, you know you have friends that are here for you, don’t you?”

I grunt. “Yeah, Lyds said that, too.”

“Oh, you’ve spoken to her?”

“I popped by today after I saw you.”

She looks happy. “Good for you, going to your support group for advice and comfort instead of, I don’t know, randomly blowing something up!” She writes something down in her notepad. “I think that’s a real breakthrough.”

Good thing I’ve never mentioned haunting Tyler or Chrissy or throwing rocks through police station windows to her.

“Hey, yeah.” I float up off the couch and vanish it. “I am pretty freaking awesome. Screw the Maitlands if they don’t see it, right? I’m a real catch!” I’m not blue anymore. Go to hell for making me sad, Maitlands! You don’t deserve me!

Her phone chimes. Delia sighs. “And that’s our time, I’m afraid. I’ve got to get back to the front desk. I gave Amy, my receptionist, the rest of the week off.” She looks into my eyes. “She thinks she’s having a stress-related breakdown because _someone_ vanished in front of her.”

I think back to the last chapter. I guess I kinda did teleport in front of those giant floor-to-ceiling windows, in full view of the receptionist. Oops.

I chuckle awkwardly. “Um, maybe she’ll be totally fine? Who doesn’t love a vacation?”

“I do hope she’ll return. I’d hate to lose her. Now, darling, find a quiet spot where you can rest and reflect. Maybe focusing on the crystal would help.”

I pet the amethyst. I really love the pointy bits. Maybe this worksheet won’t be as bad as I think it will? “Thanks, Delia. And I’m sorry for being late for our session.”

Delia’s surprised. Everyone’s always so surprised when I say stupid shit like ‘thanks’ or ‘sorry.’ “Why, you’re welcome, my dear.”

I swoop down for a hug. Her arms wrap around me tight. I hug back even tighter. I love hugging the living—they’re so warm.

hot

_DELIA, don’t leave me_

**TRAP HER CHAIN HER TO THE WALL**

_MOM, i’ll be good, i promise, i’ll be a good kid, you’ll see_

“Beetlejuice,” she says, and there’s a bit of edge to her tone for the first time this session. It’s her boundary-setting voice. “I really do have to go.” She steps back. I hate it, but I let her break the hug. “But when I’m off the clock, you can have as many hugs as you want, okay?”

~~“Yes, please.”~~

Wait, what I actually said was “Psshh, whatevs,” because I’m a Deadpool-style fourth-wall-breaking badass.

She looks at me all sympathetic. We’re eye to eye now—she’s not looking up at me, for once. “We may not be able to control our emotions, but we can control how we react to them. Try to remember that, darling, no matter what comes to pass.”

She leaves the room.

Babs speaks up from the living room. I press myself against the door to hear her. Is Babs asking how I am? ~~I don’t know if I want Delia to tell her.~~ I’d ~~hate~~ love for Babs and Sexy to know ~~how much this is freaking me out~~ how totally chill I am about this.

But, no. Babs only says a few words before Delia’s out the door. Probably just “Goodbye,” or something. Or “Have a good rest of the day.” The Maitlands are so good about pretending to care about how people’s jobs are going.

They’re literally the worst.

* * *

I teleport to my room in the basement.

“Okay, alone with my thoughts. I was alone with my thoughts for centuries.” Was it centuries? It sure felt like it. “I’m a goddamn master at being alone with my thoughts.”

The worksheet, still an origami bat, flies out of my pocket and unfolds itself. There’s one column with the header ‘What Do I Want?’ and another column with ‘Steps I Can Take.’

“Personal growth time, BJ!” I manifest a pencil.

bone them

‘Bone them,’ I write. Hmm. Now, how to make that happen?

beg them ask them force them

Yikes, Horny Brain. Definitely not that last one. But the first two, sure. Why not? I write them down.

Delia probably wants me to think about more than boning.

_ADAM and BARBARA telling me they love me would be amazing_

I can’t help but cringe as I write ‘The Maitlands’ love’ under ‘What Do I Want?’

“Argh! I’m such a dork! I hate this!” I fling the pencil away in frustration.

With just a flicker of my ghostly power, Barbara and Adam are in front of me. They’re naked, of course, the way I like ‘em. Adam kisses me and Barbara runs her finger up my arm as she slips behind me. She starts kissing up and down my neck as Adam pulls me tighter. This is what I wanted. This, I get. And I’m fucking amazing at fucking, thanks. My fingers stroke over Adam’s back and ass.

I don’t feel warm when I touch him. Why would I? They’re not really Barbara and Adam.

Frustrated, I whine into the Adam Clone’s mouth.

Barbara Clone giggles then hisses in my ear, “You can be louder than that, you little slut.” Normally, I’d be hard as iron hearing her talk dirty.

Instead, I’m just so

**_FUCKING_ **

_sad_

I snap them both out of existence.

“Stupid Delia, making me do a worksheet.” I glare at the sheet, hovering in mid-air. “She’s barely even a therapist.” I think she’s technically just a counsellor. “Wait…why don’t I talk to a real therapist? Hey, Dr. Phil!”

Back in my non-boning-the-Maitlands days, I watched a lot of daytime TV. _The_ _Dr. Phil Show_ was one of my faves. So much juicy drama!

Sure, Delia didn’t tell me to do therapy on my own. In fact, she’d probably tell me not to. She’s all about getting me to live in the real world, not my own head.

But she left me to go back to her stupid job, so this is really on her, isn’t it?

I’m sitting across from Dr. Phil, on the set of his show. There’s a photo of me looking sexy on the screen behind us. I wave to the studio audience, who applaud my awesomeness.

“So, Mr. Beetlejuice, let’s go over some of your past behaviours, okay?”

“Sure thing, Dr. Phil!”

“Fifteen years ago, you literally married a child—”

The audience starts booing me. I glare at them. “That was a green card thing! And ‘Creepy Old Guy’ slaps, you know it!”

“—after a sadistic game show where you almost killed a fake lifestyle guru and were about to kill four other people—”

I keep forgetting about Kevin, Delia’s guru who tried to exorcise me with that stupid box 15 years ago. I tug at my tie. “Hey, Kevin’s doing fine now, actually. Works for a used car dealership in Jersey. Has a YouTube channel where he debunks cults. In fact, I feel like I helped him be who he was meant to be.” I glare at Dr. Phil. “Quit bringing up stuff from the musical! I’m an immoral trickster in the show. I’ve changed since then!”

He nods. “All right, let’s look at some of your actions recently.”

Claire steps out from backstage. “When you told a 17-year-old girl to kill herself.”

I float up from my chair, baring pointy teeth at her. “No fair bringing her in! She hates me.”

Charles walks out from the opposite side of the stage. “When you threatened the family because I wanted to take Maitland away from you.”

“Chuck hates me, too! And, yeah, I was kinda an asshole in the early chapters.” I make my teeth normal and descend onto my chair, smiling disarmingly. “I’m better now!”

What the shit is this? My fantasies are usually way more fun.

Dr. Phil comments, “Didn’t you participate in something called ‘Lydia’s evil plan’ two years ago?”

“Lyds was cool with it! We didn’t hurt anyone physically. And it was for justice!” Lyds was always kinda disappointed with the results, though. Probably the reason that plot thread was dropped. What are you gonna do when you’re a shitty writer and you know readers care more about porn than morality?

“And even now, when you’re allegedly ‘good,’ you’re torturing Tyler, ignoring Barbara’s wishes regarding her sister, and planning to disrupt Maity’s fashion show.”

“That’s just plain old wacky fun, Dr. Phil. You can’t expect a demon to go full good, right? That wouldn’t make any sense from a character perspective.”

“Are you really a demon?”

“What?”

“Or are you just an old ghost who calls himself a demon because he doesn’t want to put in the work to make lasting, substantial changes to his behaviour patterns?”

His audience goes “Oooooooo” and starts clapping. I glare at them, and they suddenly freeze and shut up.

With a snap of my fingers, Dr. Phill is suspended by a chain from a ceiling over a vat filled with sharks with laser beams on their heads. “What was that about me not being a **_demon_** , doctor?”

“Beetlejuice,” Adam says warningly. He and Barbara are standing behind me, staring at me and Dr. Phil with crossed arms and unhappy faces.

I wave my hand and we’re back in Dr. Phil’s studio, everything normal and everyone sitting in chairs. “Aw, come on. That was a joke!”

Barbara leans over and touches my arm. “Dr. Phil is just listing the reasons you’re not good enough for us.”

I whimper before remembering only little kids do that. I turn it into clearing my throat.

“And you know you’re not, buddy,” Adam says. They’re both saying the worst things so kindly.

I jerk my arm away from Barbara, running my hands through my awesome hair. “You know, hearing all that shit Dr. Phil said really put into perspective just how much I’ve changed.” There’s a spotlight on me. “I’m a goddamn different character now! So what if I’m not a hundred percent what you boring dipshits want? Maybe you two could change a little to meet me where I am! Why’s the change all gotta be on my end? A little fucking compromise isn’t too much to ask!”

The studio audience applauds and starts throwing roses. I step downstage and bow, soaking it in. My needs are fucking stated, Delia. Bet she was texting Chuck and making fun of me about how hard this worksheet was gonna be for me. Showed her. Look who’s winning at relationships.

“We actually have a surprise guest, Mr. Beetlejuice,” Dr. Phil says.

The applause cuts off. Glancing behind me, the studio looks more shadowy than normal. “Huh?”

A cloud of cigarette smoke slithers from off-stage.

I freeze. Oh no.

Mom steps on stage. She looks pissed, same as she always does when she’s talking to me. “You completely forgot the part where you killed me! Your own mother!”

“Well…. You—you gotta admit your death was kinda lore breaking, Mom.” I turn to the audience. I love turning to the audience, hearing them laugh at something hilarious I’ve said. “Suddenly I can control sandworms, which we just established eat ghosts? Where did that even come from?”

The audience doesn’t laugh.

“Um, the movie?” Barbara says. “Thanks for stealing my moment, by the way.”

I roll my eyes. “You and Sexy being nerfed in the musical means more time for me. Sorry if I don’t care that much.”

Mom stomps over to me. My gaze snaps to her. Is she getting taller? “Enough with the fourth wall breaks! They’re overused, and they weren’t that cute to begin with!” She looks me up and down, sneering. “ _Nothing_ about you is cute.”

She’s way taller now. Like when I was a little kid. “Babs and Sexy think so.”

“Because you’re in a disgusting, unnatural ‘relationship’ with them. Of course, they tell you what you want to hear! That’s not what they really think. Did you forget they’re going to dump you?”

My arms are crossed over my chest. I think I’ve shrunk a bit.

Mom laughs long and ugly, smoke billowing from her throat. “You _did_ forget! Never could use your brain, could you? You got bored of looking for your father after a few weeks. He was probably hiding from you ‘cuz he heard you were trying to track him down. He wanted to spare himself the disappointment of getting to know you.

“So, how did my idiot son get out of the Netherworld a second time?” Mom turns to the studio audience. “Sure not by using his brains! He just begged Miss Argentina! He somehow convinced her he was gonna check in on the living girl who broke into the Netherworld to try and find her mom. He didn’t use his brains or powers or charm. Just annoyed her until she let him through.” The audience starts booing me. Mom turns to me, grinning. Her teeth are pointy and yellow from all her years of smoking. “And did you ever tell Miss A that Lydia was okay?”

I can’t look at her anymore. I stare at my shoes. Cigarette smoke wafts over my toes. It’s filling the studio.

“Of course not,” Mom continues. “You didn’t even keep your promise to the one person who gave you the time of day in the Netherworld. Tchh. And you think you’re worthy of love? You’re a schmuck! You’re a loser! A nothing!”

**_KILL HER AGAIN MAKE HER PAY_ **

There’s a weight in my coat pocket: Delia’s amethyst crystal. Suddenly, it’s in my hand. I cock my arm back and throw it at Mom, hard.

It passes through her. Something breaks behind her. I don’t have time to think about what. I’m floating up to her, screaming in her face as she glowers at me.

“ ** _I murdered you once, you dumb bitch! You think I won’t do it again?!_** ”

She tries to swat me like I’m annoying fly, but I’m faster. I learned how to dodge her kicks and punches when I was five. Did she forget that? I did, because I hate thinking about her, but looks like I can never forget it for long. Some part of me will always remember.

“ ** _I’ll laugh as a sandworm rips you apart! No—I’ll fucking rip you apart!_** ”

**_DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE_ **

“ ** _DIE!_** ”

And I do rip her apart. Dr. Phil and the studio’s gone now—it’s just me and her in a black, shadowy room. There’s a lot of blood and gore. Until there isn’t.

Until it’s just me in my room, with fake blood on the walls and my mom’s fake, torn-up body in front of me. Because this was all in my head. I can remember my mom’s face as she talks shit about me as clear as day, but I forgot she wasn’t actually here.

_BARBARA and ADAM are in this house, too…_

Oh, fuck. They just heard me screaming like a psycho!

Because sometimes I’m lucky (thanks, author), there’s the sound of a vacuum from the floor above. I sag against a wall.

Delia’s chunk of amethyst is on the floor by my computer. I cracked my monitor screen when I threw it. I sniffle. Not because the monitor’s broken. Who cares? Chuck can afford a billion monitors. I can just steal one from some big box store. But this computer was the first gift the family ever gave me. Yeah, it was mostly to keep me entertained with porn so I’d leave them alone. I’m not saying it was a gift given out of the goodness of their hearts. But it worked, and it helped me. And Lydia wanted me to have it. And I just broke it.

The vacuuming stops. Babs’s footsteps are on the basement stairs. She knocks at my door a second later.

“Beetlejuice, are you okay? I didn’t hear the specifics, but things were getting a little loud a few minutes ago.”

“Me and the clones were doing some thrash metal.” I’m not a crafty, immortal trickster spirit for nothing. “Maybe we’ll put our music online, become viral stars, I dunno. Anyway, gonna go work on some lyrics, so….”

Babs hesitates for a moment, then says, “I’ll get out of your hair, but Adam and I would like to talk to you this evening if you’re up for it.”

I flinch, glancing at the broken computer monitor. Babs doesn’t know what she’s asking. She and Adam don’t know how dangerous I still am.

How many times has Demon Brain told me to kill someone in these two chapters? What if this is the time I actually listen to it?

I grunt noncommittally. After a few moments—clever girl, knowing that I usually can’t stop myself from talking—she leaves me alone.

I sit in the corner of my room, wrapped in shadows. Barbara and Adam dumping me is going to be the biggest test of my goodness ever.

I’ve always sucked at tests.

The house’s front door opens. It’s Maity, home from school. I guess I time-skipped?

Whatever.

I’m Beetle-Dog a second later, flying up the basement stairs to see my best friend.

* * *

I run circles around Maity as they take off their jacket and hang it up. They’re wearing their tits, the silicone prosthetics their parents bought them to stop them from feeling dysphoria’d, and a tie-neck collared A-line maroon dress with grey lace-up leggings. (Thanks to Maity, I’ve learned way more about clothes than I ever wanted to know.) With burgundy lipstick, brown shimmery eye-shadow and loose hair, this is a pretty low-key look for them.

“Maity! Buddy! Pal! How was school today?”

“Good.” Every day at school is good for Maity. They’re so smart. “I have an English quiz to study for.”

“Can I help?” I dance on my paws. “Let me help!”

Maity looks a bit confused, which I get. ‘Helping them succeed in school’ isn’t my usual MO. “Um, okay? If you promise not to distract me, you can join me in my room.”

“Totally, kid!”

Maity bends down to pet me between the ears and antennae. Beetle-Dog’s looks aren’t consistent, other than my black and white stripes; right now, I’m Chihuahua sized. Guess I’m feeling pretty small today. (Thanks so much for that, Babs.)

We go upstairs. Maity excuses themselves to go to the bathroom.

And, of course, while I’m waiting for them in the hallway is exactly when Adam walks down the stairs from the attic.

I freeze, tail between my legs, then scramble over to Maity’s room.

“Beetlejuice, wait,” Adam says.

“Hm? Who’s Beetlejuice? I’m a dog. Watch me bark and scratch and lick my balls.” I pause. “Oh, wait, you’ve seen that already when I’m human.” I wink.

Adam chuckles. He sits down, reaching out to scratch between my ears and my antennae. I let him ~~because I’m soft~~. It makes me feel warmer and makes the world a hell of a lot brighter. “I know you’re nervous about the future, pal. We all are. But things will be better in the long run if we get them out in the open.”

Oh, God, they’re gonna let me down so gently! It’s gonna suck!

I become human just to run my fingers through Adam’s hair and be close to him. Oh God/Satan, he makes me feel warm—not as warm as when all three of us are touching, but anything’s better than being cold. This might be the last time I get to feel this way. I kiss his cheek, and he kisses mine.

lets make out

_stay, ADAM, please, stay with me…._

**_DESTROY BARBARA_ **

Adam smiles at me, but it’s a sad smile. I know what his smile looks like when he’s happy. This is his thinking-about-ghost-stuff or I-miss-my-dead parents-but-I’m-putting-a-brave-face-on smile.

The doorknob to the bathroom turns. I poof into Beetle-Dog, and Adam stands up. “Don’t forget about your quiz on Monday, Maitland,” he says.

“I won’t, Father. Perhaps we can set aside some study time on Sunday, after the party?”

It pisses Adam off, sometimes, that he’s Study Dad and Chuck gets to be the fun, Let’s Go to the Movies Dad. (Not that Adam says ‘pissed off,’ but you know what I mean.) I don’t see any resentment when Adam says, “Of course, I’d be happy to.” He smiles a totally happy smile, the kind Maity always brings out in this family.

“Or you’d be ecstatic. E-C-S-T-A-T-I-C.” I guess that English quiz is about spelling.

Adam beams at them. “Or I’d be…hmm…jubilant.”

“J-U-B-I-L-A-N-T.” They toss their hair. “Give me a hard one, please.”

“Bark! Bark! Bark!” I say, running in circles in front of Maity’s door.

Maity chuckles and opens the door for me. “All right, Uncle.” We go inside.

Maity used to be big into goth stuff, and there’s still a few pieces of their goth phase here and there: a deer skull mounted on the wall, a taxidermied pigeon, black walls. But now there’s a huge poster of the night sky on one wall, with lots of star and constellation names on it. Their study desk is by a window to the back yard. On either side of the window are curtains with lots of beetles on them. (Beetle designs, that is. Not real beetles, unfortunately. Although one time I did make those beetles real and made the swarm creep onto Maity’s bed while they were sleeping. When they woke up, they screamed so loud! It was ~~hilarious!~~ sad and I never did it again. And the best part is, they told their parents it was a nightmare so I never got in trouble.) They have three dressers and a closet for all their clothes, and a vanity where they put all their makeup and jewelry ~~the spoiled rotten little shit~~.

Right now, their closet’s hidden from view by a huge vision board for their fashion show, with the entire schedule set out in colour-coded highlighter. They’ve spent hours on this thing. Their parents are so excited. Delia said Maity’s discovering what could be a lifelong passion. Chuck’s been looking up fashion design programs in case Maity wants to be a fashion designer when they grow up. ~~Nice to have college already fucking paid for.~~ Barbara and Adam have given Maity all their sewing patterns from, you guessed it, one of those classes the Maitlands took when they were alive. I think Babs and Adam are teaching them to sew, too.

Anyway, the point is, Maity’s put in all this work…and I wanted to throw spider confetti at them.

Sometimes, I get jealous of the stuff they have that I never got when I was a kid. But just because I had a shit childhood doesn’t mean Maity should have one. 

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

My ears and antennae droop. “I was gonna make spider confetti.”

Maity is pulling a binder out of their backpack. “I beg your pardon?” They set the binder down on their study desk.

“I wanted to throw you a curveball. I thought it’d be funny.”

“Would you like more spiders in the show, Uncle?" They look thoughtfully at the vision board. "I can find a place for some. I am doing a gothic segment, after all.”

They’re such a good kid! I sniffle and look away.

“Are you…crying?”

“No!” I wipe my eyes with my paw then buzz onto their bed. I turn in circles three times then lie down.

Instead of turning back to the vision board, they sit down beside me. It’s only then that I realize I’m blue with black stripes instead of white with black stripes.

“What’s the matter, Uncle?”

“Your parents are gonna break up with me.”

They look surprised. “I’m so sorry, Uncle. I had no idea. From what I could tell, you three were getting along so well.” They stroke up and down my back, except the part of my back covered by my wings.

“Yeah, well, your asshole mom and dad don’t know a good thing when they have one!” I growl, baring my teeth, before I remember one of the reasons I’m so pissed. Sighing, I curl up, letting Maity pet me. “Shit. I don’t wanna get angry. Bad things happen when I get angry.”

After a few moments and a few more scritches, Maity says, “What if they didn’t?”

I raise my head, my antennae twitching. “Huh?”

“To receive puberty blockers, I have to see a psychiatrist to get a referral to an endocrinologist. Dr. Romanowski and I have been discussing medication for some issues that aren’t related to my gender identity.” They look worried. “Please don’t tell my parents that, by the way.”

My tail wags. “I love not telling parents things! I’ve been waiting for you to say that for forever!”

They relax, smiling a bit. “All these discussions made me think about medication substitutes for ghosts.”

“What now? That shit only works on beings with bodies.”

Grinning, they get off the bed and lift up their mattress, bringing out their Ghost Stuff notebook. Where a 13-year-old like me would’ve hid nudie mags, Maity hides secrets of the afterlife they’ve picked up from reading the _Handbook of the Recently Deceased_.

It takes them a few moments to find what they’re looking for. “Ah, here we are.” They read from their notes.

“Rest now, cruel power, I entreat

A living thing

Blood of earth

Bleach’d bone

End the worst

Tear the demon soul in ‘twain

With these words is evil’s bane.”

Have I heard that one before? I can’t remember. I’m not a big reader, okay? It took me forever to learn the shit I do know about the _Handbook_. But from what I heard, it sounds fine by me. Take out my Demon Brain? Yes, please! Fuck you, worksheets and hard work! All I ever needed was ghost magic!

I sit up, tail wagging. “Heh. Good ol’ deus ex Maitland.” Sure, I mighta told the kid to stay away from the _Handbook_ and all its secrets humans were not meant to know…but that was before I knew Maity’s knowledge of evil magic could help me personally. “But how’re we gonna get all the random crap for the spell?”

“I’m wondering that as well,” Maity admits. “I’m not even sure what ‘blood of earth’ is, although I feel I’ve seen it referenced before. Bleach’d bone is easy enough.” They nod to the deer skull on their wall. “As for a living thing….” They bite their lower lip in thought.

“Kidnap and kill someone’s pet?”

Judging by the horrified look on their face, bad idea. “Uncle!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll scratch that one off the list.”

“Besides, the spell doesn’t specify _sacrificing_ the living thing. I never would have suggested it if I thought killing was involved.”

“Sometimes, I realize you and me are very different people, kid.”

“Hmm. I found a spider in my bathroom and let it outside earlier. Would a spider be appropriate?”

“Eh, usually you need something bigger. A cow as white as milk, that kinda thing.”

“Let’s start with spiders and work our way up. I set it outside in the garden, under the rose bushes. Could you find it for me while I search for references to ‘blood of earth’?”

I’m happy to do anything that doesn’t involve research. I become human and shrink down. A few minutes later, I teleport back to Maity’s room, riding a spider and wearing a cowboy hat. (The spider is also wearing a cowboy hat.)

With just a trickle of ghost power, I trap the spider beneath a cup on one of Maity’s dressers. The kid barely notices, too busy staring wide-eyed at their notes. I become Beetle-Dog again—a bigger one, this time—and buzz over to them.

“Whassup, kid?”

“You’re not going to believe this, Uncle. I barely can, myself. 'Blood of earth’ is _crystals_.”

We stare at each other, then burst into laughter.

* * *

“I suppose it makes sense,” Maitlands comments as they draw a pentagram in chalk on the floor of my room. (The pentagram wasn’t listed in the spell, but sometimes you just want an occult symbol on your floor, okay?) “Crystals must have been more difficult to find back when the _Handbook_ was written. Only a determined ghost hunter would have them. Not to mention bleached bone.”

Along with the deer skull, we’re using the amethyst crystal Delia gave me, although we could’ve used the billions of other crystals in the house. That amethyst has gone from a symbol of my failure to a symbol of my awesomeness. Write that in your goddamn book report about this fic, kiddos. The door is shut, so no one can interrupt us.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. We can chat about lore later.”

Once the pentagram is finished, Maity straightens up. They inhale shakily, looking between me and the skull and crystal. I keep forgetting this is their first big spell. “Are you ready, Uncle?”

Doubt comes in and all falls silent. (IT’S ANOTHER MUSICAL THEATRE REFERENCE, THIS TIME TO _HADESTOWN_! YOU BETTER BE LOVING THIS SHIT, YOU GODDAMN NERDS. I’m working my brain-fingers to the bone, here.)

Is it possible that I’m not supposed to take the easy way out? That I’m actually supposed to control my feelings and just not flip out and kill people when they dump me?

_BARBARA and ADAM would be so proud of me if i could_

**_RIP THEM APART_ **

and then have makeup sex thats hot

Helpful as ever, voices. I grin at Maity. “I’m good, kid.”

“All right,” they murmur. They tip the cup with the spider in it out over the deer skull and the crystal. The spider falls almost dead centre on the skull.

Maity’s voice is a bit wobbly as they say the spell.

“Rest now, cruel power, I entreat

A living thing

Blood of earth

Bleach’d bone

End the worst

Tear the demon soul in ‘twain

With these words is evil’s bane.”

Nothing happens. I peer at the spider as it crawls along the skull. Maybe we’re supposed to kill it?

And then

**_EVERYTHING_ **

starts to

_change_

….

* * *

 _Something_ was in the room with them. It was hard for Beetlejuice to piece together what it looked like. The being was huge—bigger than the room, almost. It had a shit-ton of eyes.

 _Deer teeth aren’t that pointy, are they?_ was all he could think, even as those pointed teeth came closer.

“Uncle? Uncle!” Maity’s hand was on Beetlejuice’s arm, tugging him back.

There was a green light flickering within the _thing_ ’s mouth. Like the pulsing of a dying star.

“UNCLE!”

Beetlejuice startled. _The kid! I can’t let ‘em get hurt!_ He grabbed Maitland’s arm and focused on the basement to teleport them out of the junk room.

No ghostly power answered his call. The Netherworld-green light kept growing. The _thing_ ’s mouth was open wide enough to swallow them both whole.

Maitland jerked their hand from Beetlejuice’s grasp, yanked the junk room door open, then pulled him out.

Beetlejuice slammed the door shut, focusing all his power on it. Chains and yellow caution tape wrapped around the door.

The deer-spider-demon thing roared so loud the door shook. Beetlejuice cringed, pushing Maitland behind him. _Stay back, you crazy-ass cryptid motherfucker!_ He pushed all his will against the door. For the first time in a while, he wondered how much power he had left. _Please, stay back!_ There was no one in the universe to pray to, yet he was praying anyway.

The door held. All Beetlejuice could hear were Maitland’s gasps for air behind him.

“What in the world?” came Charles’s voice from the kitchen. It was his night to cook dinner. “Maitland, Beetlejuice, whatever you’re doing down there, stop it. It’s almost time for dinner.”

“Uncle?” Maitland whispered. “Are we in danger?”

Beetlejuice could feel the _thing_ straining against the door, but his power kept it contained. “No. As long as no one opens that door, we’re safe.” He turned around and gave Maity a reassuring pat on the head. “I got this, kid.”

They gulped. Their foundation couldn't cover how pale their skin was. “Okay. Um. Could you grab the _Handbook_ in case we need to undo this?” Their hands were shaking. _Poor kiddo._

“Yeah.” Beetlejuice frowned. “After my talk with your mom and dad. Ugh.” He flinched, imagining Adam and Barbara breaking up with him.

And yet…he didn’t feel murderous.

 _Holy shitting shit, it worked! This spell is my pill, my mood stabilizer. The highs won’t be as high, but the lows won’t be as low._ Even his thoughts were slower and clearer.

He cackled then started fixing his hair. “Kid, how do I look?” He might as well look as sexy as he could so the Maitlands would regret leaving him.

“The same, Uncle. Er, except….”

Was his hair changing colour? “What?”

“You’re on the ground.”

Beetlejuice glanced at his feet. So he was. “Well, that’s a fun change.” He levitated for a few moments before touching down. It felt good, having solid ground beneath his feet. “C’mon, kid, let’s go grab some chow.” Smells of saffron and turmeric wafted in from the kitchen. Vegan stir-fry, probably. Beetlejuice would never physically be hungry, but he wasn’t about to let a good meal go to waste. _Especially not when Babs and Sexy are gonna smash my heart to pieces later tonight._

Maitland didn’t follow him. They stared at the junk room door. “There…there is a way for us to reverse this spell, right? There _has_ to be. The author wouldn’t pull such a cruel trick on us. You’ve said hundreds of times this isn’t a dark fic.”

“Fic? Huh?”

Maitland blinked, finally focusing on Beetlejuice. “You know, the fic we’re both in.”

Beetlejuice had no idea what they were talking about. “You kids and your crazy slang. What'll you think up next? Anyway, see you up there.”

He ran up the steps, leaving Maitland staring up at him in the basement below.


	36. Snugglejuice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara and Adam finally have the conversation they've been hoping to have with Beetlejuice.

Throughout the day, Barbara and Adam’s friends had been checking in.

Claire had texted: _The demon is pissed. He just snapped at me for no reason. Hope he’s not taking his bad mood out on you two! I couldn’t call him out like I wanted to, since I’m hoping he can teleport you to the art show. Love to see you two at our booth._

Lydia had contacted her adopted parents as well. _Had a chat with BJ this morning,_ she texted. _He told me he was falling for you. As a fellow object of BJ’s unwanted affections, I thought I’d have some insight. I don’t have to tell you to treat BJ with kindness and compassion—I know you will. But I hope you’ll treat yourselves the same way. Don’t let niceness keep you from doing something you need to do for yourselves, for your marriage, etc._

_Dumping him is going to suck. But he survived it once and he can survive it again. I’m here for him._

_And if you’re not going to dump him, well, ignore what I just said. Good luck, whatever you decide._

_(He also asked about starting up the evil plan again. I said no. Just wanted to let you know in case he goes rogue.)_

Delia had checked in after her emergency therapy session with Beetlejuice. _*sighs*_ _It’s times like this I really wish I was a specialist in abnormal psychology with decades of experience!!! As usual, I have NO idea what Beetlejuice took away from our session. I wanted to remind you that I’m available to mediate any discussions you three need to have!!! XOXOXO_

Barbara thanked Delia, Lydia and Claire for their concern and, after a discussion with Adam, told Delia they’d handle it themselves.

“Delia already gives way too much,” Adam agreed. “This is her home! It’s not fair that she’s on call as a therapist 24-7.”

The family managed a rather normal family dinner, all things considered. Charles had cooked some saffron basmati rice with peas, carrots, bell peppers, and lots of turmeric and ginger for flavour. Beetlejuice ate as heartily as he always did. If he was easily distracted—sometimes pausing in the middle of a mouthful to stare blankly at the wall before snapping back to reality—Barbara couldn’t blame him.

Maitland picked moodily at their food, glancing between Beetlejuice, Barbara and Adam. While she hoped Beetlejuice hadn’t shared the day’s events with them, from the looks of it, he had. _The compulsive oversharer strikes again. I’ll have to check in with Maity and find out what they know. God, I hope it’s nothing too embarrassing._ She and Adam had drilled into Beetlejuice’s head not to tell Maitland anything sexual, but what if he’d forgotten?

Charles seemed to be the only one in the family who had no idea what was going on. Adam kept him distracted by talking stocks. They both enjoyed playing the stock market. Barbara managed to keep up with the conversation. She’d never thought much about the stock market while she was alive, and she certainly didn’t have any money to invest now, but why not learn some new skills after death? Gardening, chores and practicing her ghost powers only took up so much of her day, after all.

Beetlejuice slipped downstairs when it was time for chores, as usual. After dinner cleanup, Barbara and Adam found Beetlejuice in the basement. To her surprise, he wasn’t watching TV; he was staring blankly at the junk room door as he sat curled up on a recliner. The door had chains and caution tape on it.

“Beetlejuice?” Barbara said softly.

He blinked. “Oh, hey!” He gave them a small, strained smile.

Something roared behind the door. Barbara gasped and Adam flinched. Even Beetlejuice looked surprised.

Barbara and Adam were used to Beetlejuice’s methods of distraction by now.

“I think it’d be good for all three of us to have a chat about the future of our relationship,” Barbara said as casually as she could. “We can all be scared by what’s behind that door when we’re done, okay?”

“I’m sure it’s quite spooky,” Adam said. If his cheerfulness sounded a bit strained to Barbara’s ears, hopefully Beetlejuice didn’t catch it.

Beetlejuice laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know me! I love a good jump scare.”

“How about that conversation, buddy?” Adam asked.

“S—sure.”

“Would you like to talk in your room or ours?” It was only fair to give him choices.

“Yours,” he said quickly.

“All right.”

Barbara held out her hand to him; Adam held his hand out, as well. With a loud sigh, Beetlejuice took both of their outstretched hands. Barbara teleported them into her and Adam’s bedroom.

Barbara half-hoped Beetlejuice would start things off, but he didn’t. Instead, he dropped their hands and plopped onto one of the chairs at their card table. First, he scowled at the table, then at her and Adam, then at the window, which showed an April evening so clear she could count every star in the sky if she wanted to.

 _Time to be brave, Barbara. Put you and your husband out there._ Barbara was very aware that she hadn’t dated since the early 2000s. Just to be extra sure, she reached out for her husband and squeezed his hand. He gave her a small smile and squeezed her hand back. He was ready.

“So,” Barbara said, “we’ve noticed that your feelings seem to be changing. The only other time we’ve seen you go pink is when you were in love with Lydia. Do we have that right?”

Beetlejuice groaned and buried his head in his hands.

“Beetlejuice?” Adam prompted after a few moments.

A miserable “Yes,” sounded from behind his hands. “It means love, okay?”

“Okay.” Barbara inhaled and exhaled. Her ghostly body couldn’t get nervous in the same way it did when she was alive, but some symptoms stuck with her. “You turned pink after a very significant emotional trauma that might have pushed you to reveal things you might not have revealed otherwise. Also, you’ve seemed ambivalent in the past about our current relationship. You either make jokes about leaving us—which is what happened during your solo time with me and Adam—or you get jealous of the bond we have with each other, which happened during your solo time with me. Does that sound like a fair assessment of the situation?” She didn’t love sounding this clinical, but she wanted to make sure the three of them were on the same page.

“Just get it over with…” Beetlejuice whined, not moving his hands.

Barbara and Adam shared a concerned look.

“Get what over with?” Adam asked.

“Just dump me already, okay?” He finally took his hands from his face and jammed them into his suit pockets. “I can take it.” He stared at his knees as he grumbled, “Don’t worry about me. I won’t get pissed. Well, not _too_ pissed, anyway. I’ll be okay. I mean, it’d be nice if we had some more ice cream in the fridge, but I’ll just steal some.” He fidgeted. “Um. That was a joke. But, seriously, it’d be nice if we had some more ice cream.”

 _Oh, poor Beetlejuice!_ Had he been thinking that all day? Her heart ached for him. “Well, if it helps, Adam and I have been talking about it, and we’d like to date you.”

Beetlejuice didn’t look up from his knees. He jammed his pinky in his ear, pulled out a large chunk of earwax (some insect legs wiggled from inside it), then flicked it away. Finally, with obvious effort, he forced himself to look into their faces. “What was that?”

“We’d like you to be our boyfriend officially,” Adam said.

Barbara almost joked that the earwax thing was making her think otherwise, but decided not to. Now didn’t seem like the best time.

Beetlejuice glared between the two of them. “Bullshit.”

“This isn’t a trick,” Barbara said calmly. She and Adam had expected a certain amount of resistance. “What do we have to gain from tricking you?”

“I…I don’t know! You could be making fun of me.”

“Is that really our style, buddy?” Adam asked.

He crossed his arms over his chest, but his glare relaxed. Now he just looked confused. “Say it again, Babs.”

“We’d like to date you.”

“Now Adam, say it one more time.” His gaze locked on her husband.

“What Barbara said,” Adan said confidently.

“No, actually say it. Say the words.”

“Oh, sorry. We’d like to date you.”

Beetlejuice nodded a few times. “Okay. So, you’ve clearly gone insane.” He snorted. “I should’ve expected that. Everybody goes a little crazy once they’ve been dead long enough, even ghosts in the living world, obviously. Uh, maybe a few more sessions with Delia will clear that up?”

“I don’t feel particularly insane,” Barbara said. “I wasn’t really anticipating fighting you so hard on this, Beetlejuice.” If she’d been alive, her stomach would’ve been churning. “Do you not want to date us?” Beetlejuice did love a good prank….

Beetlejuice managed to look even more confused, opening and closing his mouth a few times.

“If you don’t, that’s okay,” Adam said. “No judgment here.”

“What the—?” Beetlejuice managed. He stood up and started pacing. Only then did Barbara realize he wasn’t floating. Actually, he hadn’t changed colours once despite his obvious emotions. _Maybe he’s too shocked to do his usual ghostly stuff?_

“But…why?!” he blurted out, hands flapping in the air.

This, they certainly could answer. Barbara and Adam started speaking at the same time. Barbara closed her mouth and gestured for Adam to continue. She didn’t want to control the conversation. Adam was so quiet that she usually took the lead when it came to conversations, but that didn’t mean they had to continue that pattern.

Adam smiled at her before turning back to Beetlejuice. “Because we care about you, Beetlejuice. As crazy as it sounds, we do, and we want to explore what that means. We’ve already opened up our marriage partly. Why not open it all the way with a person we trust?”

With a disbelieving snort, Beetlejuice shook his head. “The fuck…?”

“I think I understand where you’re coming from,” Adam continued gently. “When I was 16, the most beautiful girl in school asked me out. It took me a long time to accept that she actually meant it. I wasn’t used to good things happening to me.”

Beetlejuice just kept looking between the two of them, occasionally shaking his head.

“Unless if I’m way off base,” Adam added. “What are you thinking, buddy?”

Beetlejuice huffed and glared out the window in reply.

“A relationship with us does involve a lot of asking what the other is thinking,” Barbara added lightly. He might as well know what he was getting into.

“Yeah, I’m gonna be shit at that,” Beetlejuice snapped. “So just get out now, okay?”

“We don’t mind,” Barbara said. “We want to meet you where you are. We know you don’t have the language for expressing your thoughts or feelings like we do. It doesn’t bother us.” Beetlejuice had always been vague about when he died, but he’d died was long before couples counselling or therapy were popular. Maybe he’d died before they even existed.

Beetlejuice glared at Adam. “And also, I hate you calling me ‘buddy.’ It makes us sound like we’re friends. I mean, _just_ friends. And…if you’re actually sane and you mean all this shit you’ve been spewing….”

“I’m so sorry, Beetlejuice,” Adam said. “I didn’t think of it like that. What do you want us to call you?”

“I don’t know!” He ran his hands through his hair then paused, as if a thought had just struck him. “Hey, so I’d have to be good, right? If we dated?”

They nodded. “Considering that was a prerequisite to sleeping with us, yes,” Barbara said. “But we don’t want to cramp your style. If you want to, I don’t know, haunt a cornfield around Halloween, feel free.”

“But maybe run your pranks by us first,” Adam said. Not only had Lydia admitted he’d expressed interest in reviving the evil plan, they’d heard about Beetlejuice scaring Delia’s receptionist by vanishing in the middle of the street. “That way we can help you see if there might be some unintended consequences.”

Beetlejuice nodded, looking distracted. “Evil’s bane,” he murmured.

Barbara glanced at Adam, who shrugged back at her. Neither of them had any idea what he was talking about. “What does that mean?”

“Huh?” He blinked a few times. “Uh, nevermind. So.” He cleared his throat then smiled at both of them. “Be good, be your boyfriend, and we all keep boning. That’s what I’m hearing?”

Considering Beetlejuice’s usual attitude, Barbara was impressed that he’d actually asked them for confirmation. _It’s so nice to see some of my and Adam’s hard work pay off._ “Pretty much. It probably won’t look much different than how things are now. You’ll be invited to any conversations we have about our relationship. Which is probably making it sound pretty boring to you,” she joked. “But sometimes you’ve got to put the work in before you can have the fun.”

Barbara waited for the usual joke about how boring they were, or a dirty joke about the kind of fun they’d been having, but nothing came. Beetlejuice seemed to have turned a corner, at least—he was relaxed and smiling as he looked between husband and wife. But there was no confetti and streamers, no fireworks or trumpets, no swarm of beetles that appeared from nowhere to gnaw their clothes off so they could celebrate with sex. She’d expected a bigger reaction.

_Then again, can I really complain if he’s not behaving like a cartoon character? Maybe this is what centuries-old ghosts are like when they mature? Or maybe he just doesn’t want to._

When Beetlejuice was silent for a few more moments, Adam asked, “Beetlejuice? Is everything okay?”

Slowly, Beetlejuice nodded. “This conversation went in a really different direction than I thought it would,” he commented. “And…yes. Yes, of course, I want to date you guys. That’s literally everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Barbara knew Adam was cringing inside at his misuse of the word ‘literally,’ but now was hardly the time to bring that up.

Beetlejuice grinned. Sixteen years ago, she and Adam had run screaming from that face, with its grey skin, mossy patches, yellow teeth and sunken eyes. They’d been overwhelmed by the smell wafting off his filthy suit. They’d been confused by all the jokes and manifestations and creeped out by his constant hitting on them.

The three of them had come such a long way, hadn’t they? With a surge of excitement, Barbara wondered what the next 16 years would bring.

“Well.” She shared a smile with Adam. “We have our answer.”

“We wondered if you were going to break up with us,” Adam added.

Beetlejuice chuckled and reached out for them. They pulled him close, neither of them resisting when he tugged them down onto the bed. He lay cuddled between them, where he liked to stay when he slept in their bed.

“Can I stay with you guys?” Beetlejuice asked. He kicked off his shoes instead of vanishing them. “Like, in your room? Mine’s a dump.”

“Of course, you can,” Barbara said, kissing him on the lips. “Although, we can help you clean it up.”

“Nah,” he ran his finger along her cheek, “I’ll do it myself.”

“In the next century?”

“Ha! Busted.” He paused, sighing as Adam ran his fingers through his green hair. “Is what the old me would’ve said. But I can do it myself. Really. Don’t worry about my room. In fact, don’t even touch it. I totally got this.”

That was surprising. “All right.”

Adam kissed Beetlejuice’s cheek, looking into his eyes, concerned. “You know you can be yourself around us, right?”

That amused Beetlejuice way more than she’d expected—he laughed loudly. “Sure. Myself.” He chortled.

“I’m serious,” Adam said. “Yourself but good.”

“I know, I know.” Beetlejuice made a ‘calm down’ gesture. “And, you know what? I think I’m figuring out who ‘myself’ actually is. Took me a few centuries, but everything’s a lot…clearer, lately. And it’s great.” He kissed Adam’s temple.

 _Wow, Delia’s been really helping him out. I’ll have to let her know how well he’s doing._ “I’m glad,” Barbara said, squeezing Beetlejuice’s hand. “Surprised, but glad.”

“You and me both!”

When Barbara started undoing his tie, he gently pushed her hand away. “Can we stay like this? We’ve got time to bone. Forever, right? Let’s just stay like this for now. Please?”

It was definitely a role reversal to be the horny one in the relationship. Barbara shared a surprised look with Adam then shrugged. So Beetlejuice wanted a quiet, romantic moment instead of hard core sex. It made sense, in a way, that he wanted something different than what they’d already done together.

“So,” Barbara said, “we just cuddle, kiss and stare into each other’s eyes?”

“Yeah.” Something about this moment seemed to have shut down his usual embarrassment and irritation. He was surprisingly open about what he wanted. _He really is working on changing. I’m so proud of him._

But she couldn’t stop herself from exacting a little revenge. “You total dork.”

Beetlejuice chuckled, looking as happy as she'd ever seen him, and held her and Adam closer.


	37. Happy 13th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maitland has their 13th birthday party and learns more about the demon in the basement.

Maitland’s fashion show wasn’t perfect. Maitland was trying very hard not to let it bother them.

By design, the show was meant to be imperfect from a regular audience member’s perspective. To an audience member not attuned to the supernatural (and, unfortunately, to the family’s video camera), the show would have had awkward pauses while people changed “backstage” (a series of privacy screens rented for the occasion). To those attuned to the supernatural, however, the show would have flowed beautifully if everything had gone as planned.

That Claire was the only person in the audience who would see Maitland’s full vision was unfortunate, but what else could Maitland do? In seconds, ghosts could manifest the most expensive, haute couture outfits straight from Paris and Milan. Of course, their spectral parents and Uncle had had to use their unique abilities in Maitland’s Gender Doesn’t Matter 13th-birthday fashion show.

It would have been nicer if Uncle hadn’t missed almost all of his cues, requiring frantic prodding to go on. He’d mixed up his outfits and, in one case, just walked the stage in his usual suit. But Maitland had made Uncle both a model and in charge of lighting—it was unfortunate that he’d frequently failed, but Maitland hadn’t expected his part to go perfectly. 

The problems hadn’t only come from Beetlejuice, however. Lydia hadn’t been late for any entrances, but she’d forgotten to put on her crow-feather cloak when she walked the runway in her crone ensemble. Delia had begun to hog the spotlight, posing for far too long while she was on the runway. Charles had almost tripped off the stage as he walked in high heels. Even Maitland had been late for the top of the _Midsummer Night’s Dream_ set.

 _We needed more rehearsals_ , Maitland concluded. _Why did I think two was enough?_

At least their invitees from school—Sophia, Terrence and Eragon—had seemed to enjoy the show. They’d sat in the audience, eating popcorn and gelato from the popcorn machine and sundae bar their parents had provided. After the show, which was only half an hour out of a whole party, Maitland and their guests had played a Jackbox music trivia game. Sophia had won, because of course she had. Maitland’s guests and living family had also played drama games, like wink murder and Zip-Zap-Zop.

The party was winding down. Maitland was waiting in the foyer with their last party guest, Sophia, for her mother to pick her up. She’d dressed up in an oversized white sweatshirt, glittery silver tights, white ballet flats with black bows, and a lime green beret. Maitland had already said how much they liked her outfit. Maitland themselves was wearing black slacks and a charcoal grey dress shirt.

“Maitland, can I post these?” Sophia passed them her phone. The screen showed photos of the fashion show. Sophia was already 13, so she had access to most social media sites. (Though Maitland suspected she’d had access to them long before she was allowed to, given the way she took photos and videos.)

Maitland had managed to live a rather private online life. When they were an infant, their living mother had dabbled in being a ‘mommy influencer,’ but studies on the effects of that lifestyle on children had quashed that idea. Delia had taken down any photos of Maitland except for a few on her private Facebook, which Maitland had to approve before she posted.

Maitland saw only two photos of the show that they really liked: the 2020 all-black Balenciaga-inspired jumpsuit and their fae look, all glitter, colour and adhesive rhinestones. "Those two are acceptable."

“The two sides of Maitland Deetz,” Sophia commented as she sharpened the images and added filters.

What was that suppose to mean? “I like experimenting with my look.”

“How about this for a caption? ‘Happy 13th to my friend Maitland, the most fashionable person I know!’”

“That’s great.” _Wait, we’re friends?_ Sweat gathered on their palms. They’d always considered Sophia a youth choir rival more than anything. Part of the reason they’d invited her was the old adage of keeping one’s enemies close.

_I thought she was the Salieri to my Mozart, but she thinks we’re Pasek and Paul. I can’t even do tween drama right._

“Your show was amazing,” Sophia said. “I can’t believe you had a stage, lights _and_ a fog machine!”

“My father made the stage, but we rented everything else.” Looking at it from an outsider’s perspective, the fashion show was rather over the top. Was she judging them? “My parents were rather excessive about the endeavour.” Maitland’s cheeks burned with shame. They’d specifically asked for most of what their parents had rented.

“Parents are so weird sometimes,” Sophia agreed. Maitland felt as if they’d lucked into passing a test they hadn’t studied for. “But this was really sweet of them—and it means you have to do more fashion shows, since you have a stage. Have you ever thought about making clothes?”

“I altered a few of my outfits, mostly by adding buttons or gears.” Maitland had particularly enjoyed their steampunk set. “I didn’t alter many. My parents are teaching me the intricacies of sewing.” Hopefully, Sophia wouldn’t ask their living parents any follow-up questions. Adam and Barbara were teaching them how to sew, not Delia and Charles.

 _I suppose one of the reasons I rarely speak to my peers is so I won’t have to keep track of all my lies._ When Maitland was younger, they’d mentioned their spectral parents without thinking at school. They’d overheard Delia joking that the school staff must think she and Charles were in a polyamorous relationship. (She’d made that joke when Maitland was seven. Maitland had been much older when they’d figured out what it meant.) Maitland ached with embarrassment to imagine they’d caused their parents any awkwardness.

Uncle laughed loudly in the kitchen. It was difficult, as it had been all evening, not to glance toward a sound made by a spectral member of the family. Even not watching them as they moved about the room was difficult.

It was good to hear Uncle sounding happy, though. In fact, they’d been quite cheerful all day. Obviously, the feared end of his romance with Barbara and Adam hadn’t come to pass. Though his happiness had thwarted Maitland’s plan to read from the _Handbook for the Recently Deceased_ ; Uncle hadn’t visited Maitland last night, and in between school and the party Maitland hadn’t been able to get him alone all day.

Sophia was examining the ribbed art piece their sister had murdered their uncle with. When was her mother going to get here?

 _I should probably keep engaging with my peer. That'll prove to Dr. Romanowski that I don’t have social anxiety or any anxiety at all, thank you very much._ That had been the reason they invited Sophia, Terrence and Eragon. Dr. Romanowksi had granted Maitland access to an endocrinologist, thank God, but Maitland’s sessions had brought up some issues their psychiatrist wanted to explore.

Their pounding heart and dry mouth at the mere thought of small talk made their original goal seem foolish. But they fought against their psychiatrist’s suggested diagnosis. _So, I’m anxious. So what? That doesn’t mean I have a disorder. I’m fine. Father and Mother already spend too much time and money fussing over me. I won’t give them another reason to worry._

“Thanks again for the gift certificate,” Maitland managed. Sophia had given them a gift certificate to Stonycreek Mall, the biggest mall in Muldare, for their birthday. The mall was far from the antique shops or consignment stores Maitland usually frequented, but they appreciated the thought.

“Want to go shopping together sometime?” Sophia asked. She tapped her phone, probably pulling up her schedule. “What do your Saturdays look like?”

Maitland startled. Why did she want to do more things together? They hadn’t expected this. Their heart beat even faster and their stomach went cold.

They mimicked Sophia—popular, bossy, vocally gifted Sophia—and pulled out their phone to look at their schedule, though they already knew their Saturday plans. “This Saturday, my sister and I have plans, and we have a big family dinner.” The family always had a big family dinner when Lydia came home.

“I’ve got some time next Saturday,” Sophia said.

Maitland pretended to look at their schedule. “Oh, so do I.” _Except for Father-Child day with Charles, but I can reschedule. That’s all I have next Saturday, and the Saturday after that, and the Saturday after that…._ _I’m a dumb, friendless loser. She probably only suggested this out of pity._

“Is noon good? We can grab lunch at the food court. They’ve got some vegan options.” Sophia was vegan herself.

“That sounds good.”

She frowned thoughtfully. “Wait, do you buy clothes in shopping malls? I just realized I didn’t see a single gender-neutral change room the last time I went to Stonycreek….” 

Not every place was school, where the bathroom in the nurse’s office doubled as a gender-neutral washroom and change room. “I have, don’t worry. I usually go into the change room of the gender I’m presenting as at the time.”

Sophia sighed in relief. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that earlier! I’m so sorry, Maitland.”

“It’s all right.” Although their living parents or Lydia was usually with them when they went shopping. Would this shopping trip with Sophia be the time their gender identity was questioned? Would they be thrown out of the mall as a pervert who wanted to enter the “wrong” changing room? Someone might record it. Then it would get blasted over the internet and go viral. They’d have to give an interview to Buzzfeed about nonbinary politics, when all they wanted to do was try on clothes at H&M, or whatever basic stores Stonycreek had. 

A phrase Dr. Romanowski had mentioned flittered through Maitland’s rising panic: catastrophizing. They swallowed, though their mouth was dry. _Perhaps I do have a touch of anxiety_ , they admitted.

“I’m impressed you thought of it at all,” Maitland added. _Well, I sound like quite the ass._ They winced. “I mean—um.” They were going to die of embarrassment, right now, and introduce Sophia to the world of the undead. “It’s just…. I don’t expect people who aren’t nonbinary to think of things like change rooms.”

“Every place should have them. It’s stupid that they don’t. After we go to the mall, do you want to stop by my place?” She flashed an impish smile. “I could help you with your part in ‘Let the Sunshine In.’ I heard you going flat on the A last rehearsal.”

 _I hate her so much._ But, confusingly, Maitland found themselves laughing, smiling, and agreeing. “Okay.”

That was when her mother pulled up in a mini-van.

“Do you do hugs?” Sophia asked.

“No."

“Okay then. Thanks again for inviting me. I had a great time. See you on Monday!”

She went outside. Frowning, Maitland closed the front door. Perhaps they should’ve said they ‘did’ hugs. _I might have liked one from Sophia. And now I’ll never know. I’m such an idiot._

Now that Sophia had left, Maitland’s spectral parents and Uncle could relax. As Maitland returned to the living room, Adam and Barbara eagerly started chatting with Claire and Lydia, while Uncle chatted with Delia and Charles in the kitchen.

Maitland went to check in again with Claire, the only true member of the audience. They hadn’t had much time to interact with their family with their party guests around.

“There’s the birthday person!” Adam said, filming them on the Maitlands’ phone.

“The show really was amazing, Maitland,” Claire said. She’d told them that already. “I can’t believe you pulled all that together!”

“Do you have any critiques? I know some people missed their cues, myself included….”

“Nothing I noticed. You’re making me and Lydia feel like slackers. We took two years to self-publish a 25-page ‘zine, and we didn’t have school and homework to deal with. That’s some time management, right there.”

Glancing at the phone in Adam’s hand, Maitland was reminded of something they’d meant to speak to Barbara and Adam about. “Mother, Father, may I have a word?”

“Of course,” Barbara said.

When they stepped aside, Maitland said, “I noticed you were recording during the drama games with my classmates.” Said classmates wouldn’t have noticed the phone held by a ghost. “I’m happy to have my fashion show recorded, but not any other aspect of my birthday party. Could you delete the video?” Maitland appreciated that their spectral parents had a wealth of video of them as a child, but now that Maitland was older, they should have more say in what images were available, even if no one was posting them online.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Adam said, but he seemed melancholy at the thought. He showed Maitland the phone as he deleted the video. “I’m sorry, Maity. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Apology accepted. I think my classmates should have some say in being recorded, don’t you?”

Adam winced. “You’re right. I got so caught up in the moment, I didn’t even think of that.”

Maitland shrugged. “They’re just drama games, Father. They’re nothing notable. I play them every theatre class.”

“We just liked seeing you have fun with all your friends,” Barbara said.

 _Because you never have friends over_ , Maitland’s mind supplied. _Because you’re useless, and everyone knows it._ With great effort, they kept their expressed fixed and neutral on their face.

Depression was another diagnosis Dr. Romanowski wanted to screen for. Maitland wasn’t sure about that one either. The Maitland-Deetzes were a bizarre, macabre clan. A little bit of sadness and morbidity was their normal. _I don’t want to betray my family. Everyone feels unhappy sometimes._ _My family worked hard to raise me. I don’t want them to blame themselves for me being too odd, even for them._

They couldn’t let their family know how broken they were.

“Gosh, sweetie, you’re growing up so fast.” Barbara’s gaze was far away. “I remember when Charles and Delia brought you home from the hospital…. And look at you now.”

Maitland wished they were growing up as fast as they wanted to.

“Can we have a hug, Maity?” Adam asked softly.

“It’s Maitland,” they reminded their parents. “And, yes, you may.”

It was a freezing cold hug, but Maitland was used to those by now. When they stepped away, Beetlejuice zipped over to Adam and Barbara’s side.

“Your show kicked so much ass, kid!”

“Thank you. And I’m not a ‘kid,’ Uncle.”

“Ha! Don’t take it personal. Everyone here’s a kid compared to me.”

“Should you be dating the Maitlands, then?” Claire asked. She smiled, but her expression was a little sharp.

Uncle, unusually, didn’t rise to the bait. _I wonder what else about him has changed since the spell?_

“It’s a bit of an age gap,” Barbara agreed, chuckling.

Maitland went to ask Charles for a rain check on next Saturday’s Father-Child Day. As they approached the kitchen, they overheard their living parents speaking. Years of eavesdropping experience made them stop and pretend to tie their shoelaces.

“…done something,” Charles was saying sourly.

“Clearly, he didn’t.”

“Not in front of us, anyway. Those children are going to open up their party favours to find black-and-white striped rats, or bats, or snakes. And I’ll have to clean up that madman’s mess—again.”

Delia yawned. “Mmph, sorry. Darling, if you need a Beetle-Break—”

“Don’t be a martyr, please. You’ve dealt with him enough. And you’re exhausted.”

Now that Maitland thought about it, after morning yoga, Delia had drunk a cup of coffee instead of her usual green tea.

Maitland stepped into the kitchen. “Is everything all right, Mother?”

Their living parents, sitting next to each other at the kitchen island, turned to them. Delia and Charles wore their final outfits of the fashion show: Delia was in a pastel punk look, with a pink spiked faux-leather jacket, a ripped white T-shirt, and ripped mint-green denim jeans; and Charles wore a 1950s-inspired black cocktail dress with black, gold and silver lame flower designs on the bodice. Delia’s hair was rumpled from wearing her Mohawk wig—she’d had far too many quick changes to style her hair in an actual Mohawk—and Charles was still wearing gold glitter eyeshadow and bright red lipstick, though he’d long ago taken off the high heels he’d worn during the show.

It was still odd to see their living father so feminine. When they thought of traditional masculinity, he was the first person they thought of. But he’d participated enthusiastically in a fashion show titled Gender Doesn’t Matter, even when walking in high heels was clearly a challenge.

 _I’d probably look like him if I let testosterone pump through my veins. Does it bother him that I don’t want to?_ Maitland wanted to discuss feminizing hormones with their endocrinologist. They weren’t quite settled on what they wanted to look like as they grew, but Father’s square jaw and broad shoulders weren’t it.

“Everything’s fine, my dear,” Delia said. “I just had a hard time sleeping last night, that’s all. I had the strangest dreams.”

“I had a stress dream or two about the party,” Maitland said. They’d tossed and turned all night, waking up at least five times.

“It seems like we all had a rough night,” Charles commented. “I kept having nightmares about my meeting with our investors on Monday. I’ve met with them hundreds of times—it’s not usually something that bothers me.”

“Maybe that’s your subconscious telling you to quit the corporate rat race and follow your bliss,” Delia said, nudging Charles affectionately.

“Mm, why don’t we wait until our child is through college before I quit and become a….” Charles paused before chuckling and saying, “You know, I’m not even sure what my bliss is.” His gaze went to Barbara and Adam, who could be seen from the kitchen. “It’d be nice to have more time to figure that out.”

Was Charles jealous of Adam and Barbara? That was strange. Adam and Barbara constantly said how they wished they were alive again. They had lots of time on their hands, but not by choice.

Charles looked back at Delia, grinning, and pulled her onto his lap. “Actually, I think I’ve figured it out.”

She giggled. “Oh?”

“My family is my bliss.” He kissed her on the lips.

“Mother, Father, some decorum, please." _Ugh. They’re so gross sometimes!_

They didn’t seem particularly repentant, and Delia didn’t leave her husband’s lap, but at least they stopped kissing. Delia grabbed a napkin to wipe away Charles’s lipstick.

“Now,” Delia said, “did either of you dream about anyone being sick? That’s a bad omen that I want to hear about.”

 _Wait…all three of us had nightmares. All three of us_ sharing a roof with a demon in the basement _had nightmares. That can’t be good._

_Unless it’s just a coincidence. Uncle said he was controlling his demon half, after all. If he was struggling to do so, surely we would’ve noticed by now. Right?_

“Maitland?” Charles said quietly.

“Yes?”

“How are you feeling?” Charles asked. “You looked worried just now.”

Maitland wasn’t sure where the lie came from, but they went with it. “We should’ve had more rehearsals. There were so many mistakes…. I don’t even want to watch the video of my show.”

“Oh, my little perfectionist,” Delia said. “I wonder which of your fathers you got that from?”

“Adam,” Charles joked.

Delia chuckled, sobering as she looked at Maitland. “Sweetheart, imperfection is part of life! And this is your first ever fashion show. The first time you rode your bike, did you stay upright the whole time?”

“No. I fell.”

“Exactly. Try not to let it get to you. Focus on the amazing things you achieved. All the clothes, all the creativity, and all the fun you had with all your friends.”

 _Does everyone have to use the word ‘friends’?_ “Oh, speaking of my guests, Sophia wants to go shopping with me at Stonycreek next Saturday at noon. Could I get some transportation?”

Charles and Delia shared a look, both smiling. “Of course, Maitland,” Charles said.

“We can return to our regularly scheduled Father-Child Saturdays the Saturday after next.”

“Why don’t we change that to Sunday, so you can have your Saturdays free?”

“As you wish.” They felt momentarily sad at the loss of a time-honoured tradition. Just because they were getting older didn’t mean they wanted too much to change.

Charles gestured Delia off his lap, and the two adults stood. Charles came around the kitchen island to rest his hand on Maitland’s shoulder and look into their eyes. “Maitland,” he said softly, “you know how proud we are of you, don’t you?”

Their living parents stood so close, yet Maitland had never felt farther from them. _They wouldn’t be so proud of me if they knew I’d released Uncle’s demon half._

“I know,” Maitland said. Uncomfortable, they looked at the kitchen island, where a crystal punch bowl sat, the strawberry/raspberry punch within mostly gone. _Crystal. We’re very rich, aren’t we?_

Delia sniffled. There were tears in her eyes. “I’m so glad the universe let us meet each other!”

Their mother’s hug enveloped them. Maitland didn’t enjoy hugs, but when you lived with Delia Deetz, you put up with them.

Sometimes, Maitland wanted to ask their living mother if she wished her fertility specialist had unfrozen a different egg. She could have had a child who was happy and grateful for all the advantages they’d been given in life. _They say they love me, but parents have to say that._ _What if they don’t? What if they just put up with me?_

Was that depression talking? Maitland wished they could get Dr. Romanowski’s voice out of their head. If their brain was the key to their creativity, what would taking chemicals do to it? They didn’t want to be a happy, normal zombie—that wasn’t the Deetz way.

Charles joined the hug. Maitland tried not to compare their ghost and living parents, but they were grateful for the warmth. Footsteps behind them revealed Lydia entering the kitchen with an empty punch glass. She began to turn around, stopping when Charles and Delia gestured her over.

She glanced at Maitland, who nodded, then joined in.

“We love you both so much,” Charles said, getting choked up.

Maitland had to blink away a few tears themselves when the hug was finished, but not for the reasons Lydia and their parents probably thought. They felt so sad.

Delia kissed them on the cheek and kissed Lydia on the forehead, surprising their sister.

“Did someone slip some vodka in the punch once the other middle schoolers left?” Lydia asked, but she patted Delia’s shoulder and gave her a small smile before stepping back and getting more punch.

Maitland cleared their throat. “Thanks again for making this party so special,” they told their parents.

“You’re welcome,” Charles said.

Seeing Lydia slipping out of the kitchen, Maitland followed her.

“Sorry for interrupting the parent-child hug, Maitland,” Lydia said, keeping her voice low so she couldn’t be heard over the speakers playing musical soundtracks. ( _The Prom_ , currently.)

“I’m 13 now. I’m not a child.” Uncle was chatting cheerfully with Barbara and Adam.

“Sorry, right.” She looked embarrassed. “I know everyone makes such a big fuss when I come back home….”

“That was hardly the only time my parents have ever hugged me. It’s not even the only time _today_. Charles is getting just as bad as Delia.”

“There was a time when hugs from Charles were rather elusive.”

“Oh? I can’t even imagine.”

“He wasn’t much of a hugger before my mother died. Dad still had lots of old-fashioned notions about what a man should do. He never said that explicitly, but it was obvious.”

“I wonder what else has changed in our father’s parenting style?”

“Well, to start, I’ve definitely never seen him in a dress. I couldn’t even get a bow on his head when we played ‘last meal’ tea parties. That’s when—”

“—You pretended Father was a condemned prisoner and served him his final tea party. I know. My spectral parents put on an impromptu showing of home videos the other day. I played that game with him, too, when I was younger. You must’ve taught it to me.”

Lydia chuckled. “I suppose I must have. Or maybe Beej did.”

Maitland felt privileged to take part in a conversation between adults. Though Lydia slipped up on occasion, for the most part, she always treated them like an adult.

Uncle was now kissing Barbara while Adam and Claire had a side conversation. _I should probably get Uncle alone and have another conversation between adults._ Their stomach churned. _One evening of bad dreams…it could be a coincidence, couldn’t it?_

“I don’t mind you stealing focus when you return to the ancestral manse,” Maitland told Lydia. “I love my parents, and they love me. But, occasionally, the love and attention of four people can be…intense.”

“Now _that_ , I remember—and I only had to deal with it for two years before I left for NYU. Do you want to have a mini-vacation at my place this summer?” She nodded to Claire. “She’s fine with you staying with us.”

“That sounds great! If you’ll excuse me….” Steeling themselves, they left Lydia and approached Uncle.

Barbara noticed them and broke the kiss with Uncle, clearing her throat and nodding to them so Uncle turned around.

“Uncle, a word?”

“Ass.”

“Excuse me?”

As always, Uncle cackled at his own joke. “You said ‘a word.’ And I said—”

They rolled their eyes. “Yes, yes, quite hysterical. May we speak in private?”

“I think the director of the fashion show has some notes,” Claire said.

Uncle sighed as Maitland led him through the kitchen and down the basement stairs. “Is it about that time I went out on the runway in my suit? I didn’t mean to! I just totally blanked. At least I kept the show moving, right?”

When they reached the basement, Uncle fell silent, eyeing the junk room door uneasily. _He hasn’t floated once_ , Maitland realized. _And Father was right: he did absolutely nothing to torment anyone at my birthday._

“I brought my notebook to school,” Maitland said. “I investigated The Hunter’s Cant some more at recess.”

“The what now?”

“The spell, Uncle. The one we performed yesterday.”

Uncle nodded, his expression unfocusing.

“As far as I understand, The Hunter’s Cant was meant to drain power from ancient ghosts so ghost hunters could deal with them at another, more opportune time. When I checked my notebook again, I found a reference to ‘pure vessels’ under ‘power draining.’ Do we need a vessel to contain your demon half? And what does ‘pure’ mean?”

“No,” Uncle said quickly. With a frown, his gaze focused and he leaned into Maitland. “We don’t need more spells or magic or whatever. Everything’s fine, kid. You worry too much!”

“You pulled no pranks tonight. Not a single jump-scare, despite the temptation of a party with three unsuspecting victims.”

Uncle grinned. “Because I’m good now, kid! I didn’t even think of it. _That’s_ how good I am.” He buffed his nails on his suit breast.

“Do you have enough power to prank anyone?”

Uncle’s eyebrows rose before he laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “Of course I do!”

Watching those home videos had reminded Maitland of a youthful pastime. “Become a Hercules beetle, Uncle. Please. As a treat for my birthday. You used to do that all the time when I was a child.”

He shrugged. “Forgot what that looks like.”

“Then become any kind of insect. Or manifest one. I haven’t seen any manifestations of beetles or centipedes all day. I miss them.”

Uncle opened and closed his mouth a few times. His gaze drifted to the junk room door, where it stayed. Maitland waved at Uncle, but he didn’t turn his attention from the door.

Maitland kept their voice gentle. “If keeping your demon half contained is draining you, we can perform the spell again. I’ll find another insect to use. We have many decorative vases. Even a crystal punch bowl. Surely one of them could be a pure vessel.”

Finally, Uncle listened to them, shaking his head a few times as if to clear it. He smiled so broadly it felt false. “I love ya, kid, but it ain’t happening. It’s too dangerous! That _thing_ a giant deer-spider-crystal abomination that could kill us in seconds! ‘Sides I don’t want it inside me anymore. I’m finally good. Get it? No one has to be afraid of me. I won’t hurt anyone, ever! I finally got what I wanted! For once, things are going right for old Beetlejuice!”

Uncle slung his arm over their shoulder, squeezing gently. “I appreciate the concern, really.” He ruffled their hair, which was stiff from all the hair product they’d put into it during the fashion show. “You’re such a sweet kiddo! But just forget the spell ever happened, okay? C’mon—which one of us is the centuries-old ghost and knows everything there is to know about reality-warping magic, huh?”

“You didn’t know the name of the spell.”

“Eh, so I’m not a detail guy. I know the important stuff. I’ve seen these kinda spells in action. This one might not be perfect, but it’s good enough.”

“So you can teleport Barbara and Adam to Aunt Christine’s next Friday, as usual?”

Uncle’s smile dropped. Then he shrugged, and the false smile returned. “Eh, I’ll figure something out. Say I scouted ahead and saw there were too many sandworms. What are they gonna do, go themselves? They can’t!”

“Your willingness to lie means you aren’t fully ‘good’.”

Uncle snorted. “Well…I guess I can be bad about one, teensy-tiny little thing. It’s nothing compared to the amount of evil I _had_. You saw it.” He jerked his head at the junk room door. “And it’ll take your head off if you get close to it, so no more bright ideas and no more _Handbook for the Recently Deceased_ , okay?

“It’s worth it,” he said quietly, as if to himself. “As long as I get what I want.”

Maitland glanced at the junk room door. “Is it possible you’re not containing it as well as you think you are?”

Uncle recoiled, frowning. “Excuse me?”

“My living parents and I had nightmares last night.”

“So? You all had dreams. Big whoop.” But after he spoke, his gaze lost focus again.

“Uncle? Uncle?” Maitland shook his shoulder a few times before Uncle returned to the present.

“Huh?” he said thickly, looking around, confused.

“My living parents and I had nightmares last night,” Maitland repeated. “The night we performed a profane ritual. Is that a coincidence?”

“Guess so! Nothing I heard about the spell said anything about nightmares.” He grabbed the sleeve of Maitland’s dress shirt “Hey, fun new plan, kid—let’s stop hanging out downstairs. I got a brand new unlife to live, and it’s not in a basement anymore!”

Maitland sighed. “I think I’ll stay. I could use a moment to myself.”

“Okay.” Uncle clomped up the stairs. Halfway up, they stopped and looked at them. “And I _am_ sorry about that time I just wore my regular clothes.”

“It doesn’t matter, Uncle, but thank you.”

“Happy 13th, kiddo. Or nibling? I read that’s a gender-neutral term for niece or nephew. Looked it up myself, without Babs and Sexy even telling me to!”

“Oh,” Maitland said, surprised. “Thank you. That was very empathetic of you.”

Uncle cackled. “All those assholes upstairs better get used to kindness and empathy, because that’s all I got! Love you, Maity.”

He’d certainly never said that so easily before. Maitland smiled. _There are upsides to Uncle’s goodness._ “I love you too, Uncle.”

Uncle continued up the basement stairs, leaving Maitland alone. _No, I’m not alone._ They stared at the junk room door and the chains and caution tape on it. Uncle’s demon half had been quiet during the party, at least. Surely, that was a good sign?

And yet….

What if those chains broke? What if Uncle’s demon half burst out of the junk room and ruined the house? What if it hurt someone? _It’d be all my fault. Uncle never would’ve performed the Hunter’s Cant if I hadn’t told him about it. My family’s all here except my grandparents. If the demon got loose…._

Tears welled up in their eyes and a sour taste hit their dry mouth.

 _Catastrophizing._ They just looking for an excuse to ruin their 13th birthday because Maitland Deetz hated being happy.

They gasped for air. They sat down on the couch in front of the TV, facing away from the door, tugging at the collar of their dress shirt. Their hands and feet prickled with cold.

Their tears started falling. Mucus clogged their nostrils and coated the back of their throat. _I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid. I don’t deserve my family…. I wish I’d never been born!_

Behind them, the _thing_ chuckled. Its voice hissed and crackled with static, just as its roars did, just as Uncle’s voice did in one of his rages.

Maitland froze. The only sound that followed was another of their own sobs. Had they imagined it? They listened intently, but no other sound came from behind the locked door.

Gulping, they stood. Their hands were cold and shaking, but they turned and faced the door.

“I’ll stop you.” They wished they sounded more confident.

The _thing_ was silent—rather smugly so, Maitland thought. _And why shouldn’t it be? It knows I don’t have any resources. It heard Uncle refusing to give me the_ Handbook for the Recently Deceased.

_I could ask my spectral parents for help…._

_No._ Then they’d never get to read the _Handbook_ again. _I’ll reread my notes. There’s got to be something. Uncle may be pretending the fic was just a joke, but I know this Author. They won’t hurt me._

But Maitland’s tears didn’t stop falling. It took them 10 minutes to calm themselves enough to return to their party, and a further five minutes to wash their face so their tears didn’t show.

No sounds emanated from behind the junk room door. But Maitland couldn’t help feeling that the demon’s skull face was smiling.


End file.
